↳In which two people, trying to move on from the loss of their lovers, find themselves fated to one another.
pairing: tasm!Peter Parker x female!reader
warnings: NWH SPOILERS! angst, mentions of infidelity
a/n: hi my loves I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to update this fic. It’s a little rushed and I haven’t edited it but I wanted to get it out to you all for Christmas. There will be an epilogue after this. I hope you all love it. Happy holidays! 🩷
You felt a little bit of normalcy being back in your own world. It had been a year since the multiverse events. You resumed work straight away and threw yourself into it. That was the only way you could distract yourself from Pretty Brown Eyes Parker. Your dreams were constantly plagued with him, manifestations of what could have been. The life you two could have lived. So work you would if it meant it would keep the heartache at bay.
And it did work, for a little bit. It was only until you see the first fall of snow that you felt that sharp pang in your chest again. Yes you were safe and had decided to befriend your Peter and Harriet. You thought when Peter arrived at work it was to see Harriet now that she was off maternity leave but it was to see you. He wanted to make emends and invite you to baby May’s 1st birthday. To say you instantly fell in love with baby May was an understatement, strangely enough there wasn’t one part of you that was jealous or sad anymore. Your heart without you giving any permission belonged to someone else, someone worlds apart.
Every time you saw a flash of orange your heart leapt in the hopes that Pete came back for you, that somehow he begged Doctor Strange to open a portal back to you. But alas it was always a traffic light or shop sign.
“Thank you for being here Y/N, it means a lot to Harriet.” Peter of your universe pat you on the shoulder in a nostalgic way, you smiled and nodded your head and handed him baby May’s birthday present. “Actually, I go by MJ now.” You smiled at Peter in a friendly manner. There was no love between the two of you anymore, but you remained civil. Besides, you only had eyes for one Peter now and it sure as heck wasn’t this universe’s one.
The party went along in a blur and you found yourself fiddling your keys, the familiar Empire State keyring missing that you gave to Pete made your keys feel light and mundane now. You chuckled and pushed yourself off the wall you were leaning on, making your way to Peter and Harriet you bid them farewell and made your way out onto the snowy street.
You cursed under your breath for not bringing a warmer jacket for you walk home. You had rushed straight from work to the birthday. Pulling your lab coat closer to your chest you shoved your freezing hands into your pockets, you furrowed your brows when your fingers brushed against cool metal. You pulled the object out of your pocket and realised it was Doctor Strange’s ring.
You had forgotten that you had kept it. Looking down at the ring you clutched it tight in your fist before running home.
You were going to do it.
You were going to make your way back to him. You didn’t care how, you two belonged together there was no doubt about it.
When you got home you quickly packed a backpack with all your special items and things you needed. Clothes and other things were replaceable, a love like that wasn’t.
Grabbing some paper and envelopes you wrote a resignation letter to your work, a letter to Peter and Harriet and one to Gwen’s family. They would think that you moved countries for a work opportunity. But unbeknownst to them you’d be in a whole different universe.
There was nothing keeping you here anymore. Running downstairs to the postbox you quickly sent the letters off before preparing yourself for this new journey.
Slipping the ring onto your fingers you took a deep breath and tried to recall how Strange moved his hands to open the portal. Closing your eyes and thinking only of Peter you moved your hand in a circular motion until you felt heat and saw a bright light through your eyelids.
You gasped, it had worked.
Stepping through the portal you made your way into an unfamiliar apartment building. Walking around you observed all the photos on the wall, and there his smiling face was. You were in the right place.
Taking off your backpack you placed it by a gorgeous Christmas tree. You smiled at all the spiderman decorations on the tree before your hand stopped at a familiar keyring. Peter had placed the Empire State keyring you gave him in the centre of the tree. You let out a sob, this confirmed that you weren’t insane for traveling across universes for this man.
You were brought out of your thoughts when you heard the door open. Before you could move, a dog ran into the room and licked you. It was a brown Labrador. You leaned down to pat the pup and noticed its name was Mocha. Your favourite coffee.
Butterflies erupted in your stomach and your chest warmed. You were seconds away from seeing the light of your life. The man who gave you hope and made you feel loved within minutes of you meeting him.
Hearing footsteps coming closer you looked up to find Peter walking towards the kitchen across from where you were standing. When he called out to Mocha and she didn’t respond Peter turned around to face you. Eyes wide, jaw slacked he dropped all the groceries that were in his hands. He blinked and rubbed his eyes as if he were dreaming. He looked as beautiful as the day you lost him. Fluffy brown hair tucked under a beanie, plaid jacket and scarf hanging off his lean frame.
“Y/N, a-are you really here?”
All you did was nod your head, afraid your voice would betray you. That was all it took for Peter to rush over to you and embrace you tightly. Together the two of you wept in eachother arms.
Peter brought his hands to your face and cupped your cheeks. “So I’m not dreaming?” You laughed and pulled the familiar handkerchief he had given you, bringing it to his face to wipe his tears. “No you’re not Tiger, I’m real. I traveled across universes for you.”
Peter let out a laugh of joy before pulling his lips to yours in a kiss that one would describe as something from a romance novel or movie. You always dreamt that your first kiss with Peter would be sweet and gentle but how wrong were you. This kiss was passionate and full of need. All the pent up emotions, the grief, the longing was packed into one kiss. After a while you broke apart breathless. Peter’s face streamed with tears again as he kissed your forehead.
“Are you here for good?” He whispered, waiting for the pin to drop and for the two of you to be separated again. You smiled affectionately at him and stroked his cheek, he looked at you like a lost puppy. “You and me forever Pete, that is if you want me?”
His eyes widened “Are you kidding me! I literally wished for you under my Christmas tree this year and here you are.” He lifted your feet off the floor and carried you to the hallway. Sheepishly he pointed above to the roof where a piece of mistletoe hung.
“I mean… rules are rules.” Peter blushed, waiting cheekily for a kiss. How could you say no to him ever again. Grabbing his cheeks in your hands you kissed every inch of his face.
Hello! Call me greatness, or mother, or baby, or whatever you feel comfortable with. I'm a black, femme writer. I run two blogs, this one is where I post all my little sillies, repost all my favorite stories and repost the content I write.
My second blog is where I accept asks, favor anons, post fic ideas and do my actual writing. I mostly write for people like me! There wasn't a lot of fat, black x readers when I was younger and constantly reading them. So I wanted to make content for poc, and plus size individuals who were underrepresented in these fandoms. Please send in requests if you have any! I'm not against writing anything nasty, but here's some stuff I won't write!
Minors (don't be gross), water sports (no tea no shade, I'm just not bout that life), coprophilia, anything illegal, no noncon (cnc is fine), and ill add more if I can think of more.
This is an adult blog, and I prefer to keep it that way. Ageless accounts and minors will be blocked.
I don't know how to make a master list just yet, and even if I did, don't have a whole lot of stories out. But when I do, I'll update this post with my master list.
Welcome to my blog! I hope you find something you like :)
Peter liked you the moment he met you after moving in with his Aunt May. Unfortunately, he never got the guts to talk to you. The idea disappeared after grade school and high school graduation, so you can imagine how surprised he was when you answered his ad for Advanced Calculus tutoring. It felt like he could actually get a shot with you… and then you jumped off the Manhattan Bridge.
Peter Parker x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, DD:DNE, suicidal thoughts/ideation, suicide attempt, themes of depression, social withdrawing, emotional masking, canon divergence, angst, hurt, typos, etc.
A/N: this is originally posted on ao3
Peter watches you as you finish the last of your meal. He nods as you conclude what you had to say about the latest show you watched.
You two stand and head to the door, minding Julia as you do. His heart tightens when you smile at the older woman. Your smile looked so bright, the lines by your eyes and cheeks added to it. Julia blows you a kiss in return. Peter says his own goodbye after.
Once you're outside the establishment, Peter takes your arm and leads you out of the way of the walking pedestrians. You walk close to him, body brushing against his chest. You both stand by the edge of the pavement, Peter speaks over the sound of the street, "you heading to campus?"
He watches as you smile and shake your head, "nope. I have some a project waiting for me at home."
He is half relieved to hear you meant to meet him, meet Spiderman. Or at least he hopes that's what you meant.
"Is it the hero project thing for Ms. V?" Peter asks.
"Actually, yes," you nod, "I woke up in a cold sweat thinking about it," you look away and shrug, mumbling, "amongst other things."
Peter doesn't know if that was a whole truth. He rubs your arm that he held, "let me walk you."
You look back at him, brows knit as you shake your head, "sir, campus is out of the way to my dorm."
"I don't mind," he releases his hold, "I want to hang out with you some more."
You chuckle and grin. You reach out to pinch his cheeks, "you're so sweet."
His heart hammers as you get close enough for him to smell the pancake syrup still on you.
"I don't wanna tire you, Parker," you pull away. You shove your hands in your pocket. For a moment, the mask, your smile, slips off. There is an exhaustion in your eyes that lingers for a prolonged second, and the speed in which you make it disappears haunts him. You say, "you should get proper hangouts instead of lousy walks."
Before it registers, he clutches your shoulders and shakes his head, "I'll take a thousand lousy walks if they're with you."
You gasp under your breath, hands coming to his arms out of instinct. You slightly lose balance as you look up at him. He can feel your pulse quicken.
Peter doesn't spare another moment. He drapes an arm over your shoulder and walks you both to the direction of your dorm. He acts like what he just did wasn't as intimate as it was. He points to a random building and says he bought an ice cream popsicles there once.
He knows it's the impending doom dangling upon your soul that makes him want to act and speak out. He knows it's why the urge to kiss you as after you bring an arm around his torso was so great. Never having a chance because you were dead was ten times more terrifying than being rejected, but of course, he wouldn't just force himself on you.
He finally withdraws when you get to your building. His hands can't help but brush against your shoulder as he does so though.
You stiffen. He notices. He clears his throat and looks around aimlessly, rambling about getting to class.
Peter walks away. You watch as he does so.
"Man, about damn time Parker made a move," he hears the guard, Arnel, speak under his breath.
If it wasn't obvious, Peter didn't actually have a class to attend, and even if he did, he would've gladly missed it to check up on you.
He changes into his suit and swings up your building, intent to wait there, though it was still pretty early.
He starts when you loudly open the door to the rooftop. In equal measure, you start when you hear his shocked curses.
He is bewildered by the state of you. A total 180 of what you were just moment ago.
"You're early," you mutter weakly, wiping your nose. You held a notebook in that hand. Your eyes were red and your cheeks were wet.
Peter flings himself over to you with a web. He lands in front of you and grabs your cheeks, "what's wrong, baby?"
You look at him and dryly chuckle through a sob. Your voice cracks as you say, "I am acting like a baby, huh?"
"That's not what I mea-"
"I know," you sniffle, "... but if you keep this up, I might fall for you."
He doesn't laugh at the joke. He wipes your tears away, "you already have," he pulls away and raises two fingers, "twice."
You release a soft chuckle. You sniffle and wipe your philtrum. You walk past him, "touché, Spoods."
His expression softens under his mask.
Spiderman trails after you as you head towards the ledge and flip through your notebook. He comes to your side as you place the object there and turn to him.
"I lied to Peter," you mumble.
Peter stares at you.
"I told him I was alright, but... ... I can tell he doesn't believe me anymore."
He takes a moment before responding, "is that why you're crying?"
You press your hands on your notebook, "... maybe? ... I just started crying when I got back," you look down and rub the paper underneath your hands.
He glances down and vaguely catches the doodles hidden behind your palms.
"I think I'm poisoning him."
Spiderman looks back at you.
"It makes me want to chug bleach."
"No, don't do that," he raises a finger.
You at him, eyes glazed with tears. It crushes his heart, so much so his insides scream to reveal just why he's so confident in what Peter thinks. He silently debates unmasking himself.
"I won't," you shake your head, "don't want to haunt the dorm."
He's about to say something but he doesn't when you point at your notebook. His attention is diverted.
"You're my hero."
Peter's heart skips. He sees a bunch of sketches of him, of Spiderman-- of him tugging his mask, of the back of his suit... of him swinging on the Manhattan Bridge. His heart threatens to burst.
"I have this... project... it's called A Study On Heroes..." you slowly turn to him, "I... I wasn't planning on doing it because... well, you know why. And... well... I was thinking since-" your shiver as you sigh.
Spiderman doesn't hesitate. He takes your hand and squeezes it. In this suit, he had the guts to do such things. He tells himself he'll learn to do it without the safety of his anonymity.
You squeeze his hand back but turn away from him, "since you-" your voice is wobbly, "you said you wanted to help, and I don't want to be a bystander... maybe this could be a reason to-" you choke "- to live."
He pulls you into a tight hug. He repeatedly kisses the crown of your head through his mask.
Before he could tell himself he went over the line, his throat tightens at the feel of you returning the embrace.
You wail into his chest. You dig your nails into his spine. The sound of you was gut wrenching; your cries were exasperated, hurt, and relieved, as if you had been waiting to be embraced.
Fuck, maybe you were.
He feels his eyes water.
You stay like this for a long while, neither of you loosening your hold.
Peter strokes your hair, "whatever you need... you got it, my love."
Eventually, you calm down. He waits for you to pull away because there was no way he was going to be the first to do so.
You press your cheek against his chest and sniffle thickly, "I..." you mutter through clogged sinuses, "I want you to be my study, if it wasn't clear... for my project."
"I'll be your study, sweetheart," he brushes your shoulder, "I'll be whatever you want."
You lightly scratch at his back.
"I'll do live modeling for you. I'll do an interview. Anything. And guess what, I won't even charge you."
You chuckle then sniffle again.
He squeezes your shoulder, "I'll catch you, sad girl... just jump into me."
Your lips wobble. You sob as you retort, "thank you, Spider-Man."
I stand in front of a mirror, gawking at myself. Beyond my tear stained cheeks and my blood-shot eyes, there was a hollowness staring back at me. I looked vile. I looked wretched. I looked irredeemable.
This is what Spiderman saw when he looked at me? A lost cause? A pathetic joke of a woman?
This must be why he was so hesitant to leave me. This must be why he asked me 10 times if I would be alright by myself before swinging away.
I feel so guilty. I feel so sick for spilling out the darkness on the lap of someone so bright. What if I dim him out? What if he gets scared of me?
I force myself to suck air through my nose. It's painful. I walk towards my bathroom and splash my face repeatedly with water.
I hear a text notification.
I drag myself into my bed and collapse.
I hear a text notification.
I groan and roll, reaching out for the phone laid atop my bed side table. My brows quirk when I see it's a message from May Jameson.
Hello. This is Peter's auntie, May. He's not answering his phone and I have been meaning to speak with you.
He mentioned having breakfast with you, and I was in the area. I am at your building's entrance.
I push myself up from my bed, panic and dread causing my spine to straighten unnaturally. Why was she here?
The next moment, I receive a call from her.
"Fuck, shit, fuck, FUCK-" I drop my phone and wipe my face. I clear my throat a couple times before answering. My voice still cracks when I say, "hello."
May Jameson's voice is as jovial as it was the few times I've met her. She says my name and tells me the same thing that she did in her messages.
"P-eter's not here," I lean into my hand, "he's, uh, he's at uni- I, uh, yeah... We had breakfast but he left."
"Oh, that's fine, dear," she says, "I was hoping he'd be here, but, oh well. I wanted to talk to you about something."
"... m-okay-"
"Peter mentioned that you do commission work. I was wondering if you would consider doing something for me."
I sigh deeply. "Oh... what kind of work is it?"
"Well, it's a poster. I actually have one with me right now. I'd appreciate it a ton of you'd be willing to look at it for me."
I stand from my bed and walk towards my mirror. I look shit. There's no way this isn't apparent. Fuck, what am I going to do?
"... Oh, gee... am I bothering you?"
"No! No," I shake my head and head to the door, "... I-" I grab a beanie and put it on, covering my face as much as I can without obstructing my vision fully, "- I'll go downstairs right now."
"Oh! Thank you. That would be wonderful."
By the time I get downstairs, May and Arnel were knee-deep into conversation.
She perks when she sees me, smiles, and waves. When I come over, she reaches out for a hug and so I hug her. It was awkward, but it seems only for me.
She strokes my hair, "how are you, my dear?"
"Mmm... good," I chuckle nervously as I pull away.
She rubs my shoulders and hands me a bag, "it's probably a bit cold now, but I figured I should sweeten the deal with some lunch."
I hesitantly take the lunch bag from her, not wanting to look at her and draw attention to my face. If she noticed anything, she definitely didn't say a word about it. I stare at the lunch bag instead and slowly feel uncomfortable when I realize just how... personal this was. She made this for me.
"Here's the poster we have."
I look the printed poster she unfolded.
"I tried my best on the computer, but it doesn't really look very compelling."
I examine the text, the Impact font, the odd cut off of the description, the colors.
"Volunteer?"
"Oh, it's for a senior home," she explains, "the place is government ran and lately, it's been falling short with it's facilities. It takes months for the city to actually do anything for it, and so the folks there have been relying on volunteers and donations."
I release a breath. Our government fails us again. I slowly nod, "can I take this poster?"
"Please."
"I'll do the commission and have it sent to Peter by the end of the day."
"Oh," she perks, "sweetheart, that's great, but there's really no rush."
"No, no, it's fine," I offer a smile, "and I'll only charge you lunch for it," I raise the bag she gave me.
"No, no, no," May raises a finger, "I'll pay you your rate."
I shake my head, "I want to help. Consider this my volunteer work."
"Oh, thank you," she pouts, "you know, one of the seniors is having a birthday party tomorrow. You should come. We'll have cake!"
I chuckle at her exclamation.
"And why not take pictures of the geris?" She gasps in realization, "you can put them of the poster!"
Rather reluctantly, I find myself saying, "actually... that would be a good idea," but I don't really want to go outside...
"Great! Tomorrow then. I'll text you the details."
Before I can even say a word, she's waving me and Arnel the doorman goodbye.
May walks down the street and smiles when she spots Peter.
Peter straightens up when he sees his aunt. She immediately tells him the mission was a success. Peter breathes a sigh of relief, but tenses when he hears that his best friend had been crying.
"I'm glad you caught on to her," his aunt says.
Peter sighs deeply, "thank you for helping me, May."
She shakes her head, "I'm glad you're helping her."
He nods and hugs her.
I nervously chew on my lip as I glance at my phone, back up to the building down the block. The street was a bit filthy and I felt rather agitated over the idea of going there.
I shove my hands and phone into my pockets and walk down the street anyway. I clutch my satchel bag tightly once I stop at the entrance of a chain fenced property.
I pace around the front gate and pull out my phone. I scroll through my contacts, debating on calling either May or Peter. I settle for the latter and check my perimeter.
I tense when I hear a voice call out to me.
A middle aged woman in scrubs steps out of the front door, "can I help you?"
"Uh-" I shove my phone in my pocket, "I'm... I'm here to visit the senior home... I, uh... I'm working with May Jameson-"
"Oh!" she perks and walks towards the gate. She says my name and I nervously chuckle, telling her, that was indeed me.
She unlocks the gate and I thank her as I step in.
"I thought you would be coming in with her boy," she closes the gate, "he takes the back door to go inside."
"Oh."
"I'm Rhonda," she smiles, reaching a hand out for me, "nice to meet you."
I shake her hand. She and I walk inside.
"If any of the seniors offer you a drink, say no, unless you want to black out and wake up with the worse hangover of your life."
My mouth falls open but I do not get to respond. The moment we reach the main room, the bustle of what was clearly a party overpowered my senses. It was rather a stark contrast from the setting. As much as the dingy outside matches the beige walls and the dated furniture, both felt out of place with the elderly men dancing around with boa feathers, geometric glasses, and party hats to country music. There were two women on wheelchairs loudly cursing each other out as they played cards. There were a bunch of people huddled by the food table, and the moment they spotted Rhonda, they immediately pulled away and dispersed.
"HEY!" Rhonda catches them nevertheless, "now I know you did NOT spike my agua fresca!"
The 2 men and 3 women cackle and fast-walk away from the scene.
Instead of chasing after any of them, Rhonda glances around the room and screams out a name, "Pamela Amalia Flynn Mosby!"
The old woman sat in a reclining chair reading the newspaper looks up, "what?"
"Oh, don't you act innocent-" Rhonda walks over to her, promptly leaving me forgotten where I stood.
"Hey kid."
I turn to my side and see an bald man with wrinkled skin holding a box of juice.
"You want some?"
I shift in my spot and chuckle apprehensively, "I was told not to accept drinks if I didn't want to black out."
"Nah, that's only if you drink Pam's spiked punch," he nods his head.
I turn to where he motioned and vaguely hear Rhonda ask where she got her alcohol this time.
"My secrets are my own, kid," Pamela crosses her arms, making Rhonda sigh in frustration.
"You killjoys are killing my vibe," one of the dancing men tells them, moving towards the speaker, cranking the volume louder.
"Oh!" a voice says from behind, "you're here!"
I turn and see May, walking in with a box of cake.
"Cake is here!" the old man beside me calls, making the room break into a cheer.
A buff man walks in after May. He smiles at me and I awkwardly smile back. He has some pizza boxes in his hand and follows after May who places her own box on the food table.
May mutters something to him and then turns to me, smiling. All the seniors flock to the food table as May approaches me.
"Thank you so much for coming," she says before giving me a hug.
I don't have the opportunity to hug her back as she's already pulling away. She points, "that's Jerry, one of the employees here. That's Rhonda, and then there's Tammy, and Bianca."
I turn to each of the people she mentions and nod, "Rhonda let me in."
"Tell her she can accept my juice box," the same voice from a while ago speaks.
I look to my right and see that the same bald man.
May chuckles and shakes her head, "did Rhonda tell you about Pam's juice?"
I make a face.
"Well, if you want some juice, feel free to get some from the birthday boy," May says, prompting me to turn to the man still offering me the juice.
I chuckle nervously. It feels like I have no other choice but to accept it at this point, "thank you..." I take the juice and place it in my bag, "and happy birthday."
He sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry, "82 is overrated. Not as overrated as being whatever age you are though, kid."
I laugh at that.
He sighs and presses a hand on his chest, "she laughs! For a second there, I thought you were going to hang yourself with your bag."
"Rodney!" May scolds.
"What? The kid looked uncomfortable. But I mean, I don't blame her. I hate it here."
May shakes her head in disapproval, "I'll go get you some cake."
"One for me too," Rodney raises a finger.
"Actually, May, I'm good. I'll think I should start taking pictures," I pull out the camera in my bag. It was Peter's, actually. I had yet to return it after borrowing it for my last project. "Is Peter coming soon?" I ask.
"Oh," May says with an annoyed lilt, "he said he'd run a late because he's finishing something for a project."
"Ah," I set my camera and prepare to take a photo.
May walks off to get some cake.
Rodney shifts in his spot, "try not to make my portrait look like my burial image."
I bite my lip but cannot contain my snort. I snap a photo of him and pull the camera away. I show him the image I took.
"Ha. Not bad for a drawer," he says.
I knit my brows.
He looks at me like I was dumb then motions, "you know, cause you draw."
"Oh," I snort and shake my head. I chuckle, "animator."
"Pah," he waves me off, "drawer's more astute. I don't think you can animate the dead anytime soon," Rodney motions, "so, how'd a drawer become friends with a nerd?"
I hang my camera on my shoulders, "you mean Peter."
"Of course I mean Peter, you're using his camera."
I look down at the camera.
"I scratched the side."
I look back at him, "that was you?"
He shrugs, "I didn't know it cost that much. The kid left it lying around anywhere he could put it."
I chuckle. That did sound like Peter. "He was my math tutor."
"Ha. Makes sense ."
I press my lips into a smile, "but we also were classmates in highschool. I didn't realize that until he told me though."
"No kidding."
"Yeah. He was so sweet about it too. I felt horrible."
"I'm sure he knew it was nothing personal. Some people are just forgetful."
"Here you go, Rodney," May comes back with two plates of cake. Rodney takes one and May hands me the other.
"No, " I shake my head and step back, "I'll, uh, take some photos first."
May pouts, "you sure?"
I nod and step away.
For a few minutes, I go around taking photos of everyone. A lot of the seniors, once they realize they're being photographed, would pose for me. I would laugh each time, as they all seemed so happy. At some point I went off to the side and checked my photos. I had a lot of good shots, and there was more than enough content for the poster.
"Jaz, turn that up!"
I look around the room and see that everyone was now watching TV.
My lips part when I see news coverage of Spiderman saving someone from a burning building. I gasp with the rest of them when an explosion plays on screen.
"... He was able to save 7 year old, Kareem Mustafa, and his dog, Vader, before the building collapsed. Unfortunately, Kareem's mother, Zeina Mustafa, was found too late and had succumbed to asphyxiation before being found. Local authorities say that..."
The lightness in the air seemed to grow incredibly thick.
I feel my throat tighten as the news report ends and it goes to commercial.
I walk out of the room and head to the stairs. I sit the the bottom and put my camera down before wiping my face, "burning building..."
I pull out my drawing pad and begin to draw.
Fucking hell, dude... the universe has a sick sense of humor.
A burning building stares back at me. A few tears blot the page.
Spiderman must feel terrible for not being able to save that boy's mother.
"Hey, that's pretty good."
I start and turn to the railing, wiping my tears as I did.
Rodney was there, eyes glued on my drawing, "you know... I always wanted to do something like this. Be a drawer."
I lick my lips and gulp.
"I love the life I lived but sometimes, I wonder. Hm. Could I have won awards for drawing like I did for real estate?" He shrugs, "who knows."
I move to the side as Rodney circles around.
"Birthday boy's gotta get his beauty sleep. You don't get to 83 without it."
I watch him as he walks up the stairs. "...didn't you say you were 82?"
He chuckles, "I'm flattered you kept track. I don't."
I stand by the time he gets to the second floor. I put my things back into my bag and head back into the party. I thought everyone would be packing up, since Rodney already left, but it was as if the tense moment during the news never occured.
Everyone was making merry again, and I felt jarred as I did relieved.
"You should try some juice"
The woman named Pam approaches me with her walker. She mutters, "never know when you're gonna die in a burning building."
I watch as she walks past me as exits the room.
I pull out the juice in my bag, put the straw in, and drink it.
"Hey, it's Peter. I can't really get to the phone right now, but leave a message or call again in a little while. You know what to do after the beep."
"Hey, Parker. I know you're busy with your school stuff and all, but I wanted to ask if..."
I gulp. Why was this so hard? Come on, it's Peter for fuck's sake.
I take a deep breath and shake my head. I remember that if I hang-up, this message will still be recorded, so I force myself to continue.
The grating idea of bothering Peter, of causing him concern, of distracting him digs into my flesh though. I mean, fuck, if he wanted to see me, he would have gone to the senior home like he told his aunt he would. If he wanted me to study with me, he would have reached out.
I take a few deep breaths before mustering up, "... y'know... if I could join you? You know... because I work better with some-"
Beep. The recording ends.
"Fuck."
I stare at my screen that displays Peter's caller ID just as the line is hung-up. A gust of wind blows across the building. I should really go inside.
I lean onto the ledge of the rooftop.
It was already 10 pm. I should be doing the edits for that poster. I shake my head and wipe my face.
Just as I turn around and head to the exit, I hear a rustle behind me, "hey!"
I look over my shoulder. He chuckles, "were you waiting for me?"
I stare at Spiderman, who now sat on the ledge of my building.
"I'm touched," he presses his hands on his chest.
Oh. That's why. How could I forget this was where I met up with New York's beloved hero? How could I wonder why the thought of going to the rooftop of my building felt so comforting when I spent the better part of the day drawing the reason for my comfort-- drawing Spiderman?
I turn back and open my mouth.
Oh... probably because he was also the source of my agitation.
I gulp and shake my head, "actually... I wasn't... I was... trying to clear my head, and I thought of going here."
The man jumps off the ledge and walks over to me. He crosses his arms, "aha! You internally wanted to see your best friend."
I turn to my feet. I think about Peter, "I do. I really want to see him... but he doesn't want to see me--" I look back at him, "or anyone for that matter, so I can't."
He relaxes his arms to his side. He tilts his head, "has something happened?"
"Yeah," I blurt and chuckle dryly, "the burning building?!"
He freezes.
"I mean-- fucking hells, it's not funny, but I-- it's so ironic we talked about burning buildings, and then it happens to you, and weren't able to save the mom, and I'm thinking how horrible that must be for you, and how I don't want to add to that when you can't save me because-"
"Woah, woah, woah, hold on-" he grabs my shoulders, "that's a stretch. A leap, actually."
"No," I begin to hyperventilate, "it's called a plausible outcome."
"It's called a misguided speculation-- hey," he clutches my cheeks in both his hands.
I begin to sob. I grip his wrists.
"Sweetheart, hey," he wipes my tears and walks closer, "listen to me. I saved her."
My brows knit as he continues to rub my cheeks.
"I managed to save the mom, and her son, and their dog. They managed to hook them up to an oxygen tank, but the mom... her heart gave out."
I shake my head, "which is why you can-"
Him speaking my name shuts me up.
I catch my reflection on the lenses of his mask.
"Would you have preferred I left her there?" he asks softly.
I involuntarily gulp. What horrible notion to present to me. I guess that was the point.
He sighs and pulls me into a hug.
I do not reciprocate
He rubs my back, "honey-"
"I'm not a mom. I don't mean anything significant to anyone like that."
"You are significant to me."
My throat tightens.
"Damn, why do you think I went here, when I could have gone home?"
I begin to sob into his shoulder. I reluctantly embrace him back.
He holds me tighter.
I don't know how long we stood there hugging, but it was long enough for me to calm down and feel exhausted.
I mumble against his shoulder.
"What was that, my love?"
"Do you want to go inside?" I pull away and sniffle, "I mean-- I just want to show you my sketches... it's fine if-"
"I would be honored to," he tilts his head, "stick you head out of your window, I'll web down to you."
"Oh... alright."
"Just for future reference, so I know what floor you're on."
I nod slowly at his words.
I do just as he says. I get to my apartment and stick my head out of my bedroom window. A few moments later, Spiderman slides down on a web, hanging upside-down.
"Hi," I wave at him.
He jumps onto my fire escape, "hey, sweetie. Miss me?"
I pull away and examine my bedroom. It wasn't messy, but I couldn't help but fluff my pillow and rub my sheets flat. I turn back to Spiderman and he points, "can I sit down?"
"Sure. Of course."
As he sits down, I grab my sketchbook, flip through the pages, and hand it to him, "I, uh... it's... it's... it might be a lot for you."
He takes the book from me and goes through the drawings. I chew on my lip as I watch him go through the pages, as if they were sacred.
"These are-"
"Dark and disturbed, I know."
"-vivid. So alive, and... gut wrenching."
He lifts his gaze up to me. I stand still in front of him. I feel my eyes begin to water under his scrutiny.
"You think so highly of me. You form me so beautifully."
I scratch my face, "I mean... you're a hero. It's not hard."
"Who's this?" he points to a man in a birthday hat I drew on the corner of the page.
"Oh. That was one of the seniors at this home I went to today. He was dancing with two other grampas. It was great," I chuckle softly, "it was a real party."
"What were you doing at a nursing home?"
"I'm, uh, making them a poster to help out with their funding, which reminds me... do you mind if I work on it while you're here?"
He waves a hand, "by all means."
I sit down next to him and grab my laptop, "I can't really bring myself to work on it. It sometimes becomes easier for me to work on something if I have someone with me."
"Do you want me to do something?" he sets the sketchbook on my side, stands, and grabs Peter's camera on my desk, "I can take selfies for you to use as references later."
I chuckle at him as he begins to pose. I shake my head, "I mean, if you'd like."
Spiderman plots back down to my side, "can I just watch you work?"
I shrug and repeat, offering a smile, "if you'd like."
As my screen loads up, feel him nudge my shoulder. I turn back to him and he tilts his head, "you do realize, you're a hero to them, right?"
I knit my brows, "what are you talking about?"
"If you see me this way," he take my sketchbook and shakes it, "then they can see you this way."
I sigh, "Spidey, please, I'm just making a poster. You saved someone from a burning building."
"I did something within my means, my love, which is exactly what you're doing now."
I turn back to my laptop. His pet name makes me feel funny. I know he means nothing but it, but the way he says it does something to my stomach.
"Denying it doesn't make it less true."
I move my mouse around.
"... that is, unless, your poster sucks ass-"
I snort and nearly choke on my spit.
"-in which case, I'm sorry, but you're a villain who deserves jail time for screwing over a nursing home."
