Peter Parker first learned about soulmate marks from Aunt May when he was a kid.
She told him that soulmates were rare, and their bond was even rarer. "It's a gift," she'd said, sitting beside him on their worn couch. "When you touch your soulmate for the first time, they'll leave a mark on your skin, something that stays with you forever. And you'll leave one on them too."
Peter had stared at his hands, imagining what his soulmate's mark might look like. Maybe a bright blue star on his palm or a swirl of green across his wrist. He didn't know what to expect, but he dreamed about it anyway.
As the years passed and Peter grew into the dual life of high schooler and superhero, those dreams started to feel distant. Between his responsibilities as Spider-Man and his struggles to balance everyday life, the idea of finding a soulmate seemed impossible.
And then there was the worry: what if his soulmate didn't want someone like him? Someone constantly bruised and battered, always a step away from danger?
By the time Peter turned 18, he'd almost convinced himself he didn't need a soulmate at all.
Wade Wilson had always thought the soulmate mark thing was a joke.
When he was younger, it had been a source of ridicule among his friends. "Wade, you'll leave a middle finger on someone's forehead," one of them had teased. He'd laughed it off, but deep down, the idea of leaving a mark—a permanent piece of himself—on someone else had scared him.
And after the experiments that turned him into Deadpool, Wade was sure the whole soulmate thing wasn't for him. His scarred skin made him feel like a monster, and the thought of touching someone, of leaving a mark that symbolizedhim,seemed cruel.
"What would it even be?" he muttered to himself one night, staring at his hand. "A chimichanga? A skull? Maybe just the words 'I'm sorry.'"
He laughed bitterly and pushed the thought away.
Peter was swinging through Midtown when he spotted trouble—a gang of armed men robbing a jewelry store. He landed silently on the roof, peering through the skylight, only to see a familiar red-and-black figure already inside.
"Deadpool," Peter muttered, shaking his head.
Wade was in the middle of dispatching the last thug, twirling his katanas with theatrical flair. "And that, gentlemen, is why you never bring a gun to a katana fight!" he declared, kicking the man unconscious.
Peter sighed and dropped through the skylight, landing lightly on the floor. "Deadpool, what are you doing?"
Wade turned, tilting his head. "Oh, hey, Spidey! Just tidying up. Don't mind me."
"This wasmybust," Peter said, crossing his arms.
Wade sheathed his katanas, strolling toward him with a grin. "Yours, mine—what's a little overlap between friends?"
Peter rolled his eyes, but before he could respond, Wade extended a hand.
"Truce?" Wade said, his voice unusually soft.
Peter hesitated, then sighed. "Fine." He reached out to shake Wade's hand—
And the moment their skin touched, it was like an electric current ran through them.
Peter jerked back, staring at his palm. A bright, red-and-black spider symbol now glowed there, stark against his skin.
Wade blinked, then looked down at his own hand, where a swirling web-like design had appeared in shimmering blue.
"No way," Wade breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're my soulmate."
Peter's heart raced. "This...this has to be a mistake."
Wade laughed, a sharp, incredulous sound. "Yeah, because the universe issuperbig on practical jokes."
Peter stared at him, his mind spinning. This wasn't what he'd expected. Not even close.
Over the next few days, Peter couldn't stop staring at the mark on his hand. No matter how much he scrubbed or tried to ignore it, the red-and-black spider remained, a constant reminder of his connection to Deadpool.
Wade, meanwhile, was absolutely thrilled.
"Spidey," he said one night as they perched on a rooftop, watching the city lights below. "You realize this means we're stuck with each other, right?"
Peter groaned. "Don't remind me."
"Oh, come on," Wade said, grinning. "This is fate! Destiny! A cosmic love story for the ages!"
"It's a cosmic disaster," Peter muttered.
But even as he said it, he felt a strange warmth in his chest. Despite Wade's chaotic personality, there was something comforting about the bond between them.
Peter soon realized the marks weren't just decorative. Whenever he was near Wade, his hand tingled faintly, as if the mark were alive. It was both unsettling and oddly reassuring, like a compass pointing him toward his soulmate.
Wade noticed it too.
"Do you think it glows when we're in danger?" he asked one night, poking at the web-shaped mark on his wrist. "Like a soulmate Spidey-sense?"
"I don't know," Peter said. "But can you stop poking it? It's weird."
Wade smirked. "You love it."
Peter didn't respond, but his silence spoke volumes.
As time went on, Peter and Wade began to rely on their bond in unexpected ways. The marks became a source of strength, a reminder that they weren't alone in the world.
For Peter, the connection meant he didn't have to carry the weight of his responsibilities entirely on his own. Wade's humor and unwavering loyalty gave him a sense of balance he hadn't realized he was missing.
For Wade, the bond was a lifeline. It reminded him that he wasn't just a scarred, broken mercenary—he was someone's soulmate. Someone who saw past the chaos and cared about him anyway.
One night, during a particularly dangerous mission, Peter and Wade found themselves cornered by a group of heavily armed mercenaries.
Peter's heart raced as he looked at Wade. "We're not getting out of this without a plan."
Wade grinned. "Good thing I brought backup."
He reached out, grabbing Peter's hand. The moment their skin touched, their marks flared to life, glowing brightly in the darkness.
Peter felt a surge of strength, as if Wade's chaotic energy had merged with his own. Together, they fought back the mercenaries, their movements perfectly synchronized.
When the dust settled, Peter looked down at his hand, the red-and-black spider still glowing faintly.
Wade nudged him, smirking. "Told you we make a good team."
Peter rolled his eyes, but he couldn't hide the smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah. I guess we do."
Over time, Peter and Wade learned to embrace their bond. The marks on their skin became more than just symbols—they were a reminder of the connection they shared, a testament to the fact that even in the chaos of their lives, they had each other.
And as they stood side by side on a rooftop, watching the city lights twinkle below, Peter finally admitted to himself that maybe, just maybe, fate had gotten it right after all.