Sneak Peak: Matt Murdock X Ex-black Widow! Reader
sneak peak: matt murdock x ex-black widow! reader
a/n this fic has become sooo much longer than i originally thought itād be, but i really want to put out something, so hereās my current favorite scene :)) (also im thinking about splitting it up into a mini series bc iām doing so much lmao) if you want to be tagged in the full thing lmk :))
also writing matt murdock fics is about to become my new obsession bc i have so many ideas and i love his character and i really hope he comes off at least kind of accurate bc ive never written him before, so if this is bad im really sorry and im still getting used to him :))
also!! for this fic to make sense letās all pretend that even with extensive research, someone wouldnāt know that natasha died when everyone came back from the blip :)) itās part of the plot of the full ficĀ
Blood coats my fingers again. I wonder if something happens frequently enough if thereās still a point in using tenses. My hands were bloody; my hands will be bloody; my hands are bloody. If itās promised to happen again, was I ever really free of its stain?Ā
The fighting is done. At least it is for now. Tonight was not particularly hard, in the physical sense. Iāve attacked people more prepared for someone of my skill level. Iāve attacked people with more dangerous weapons. Iāve been more violent, more brutal. But the people that lay near me, still breathing but broken, something about them sits with me incorrectly. They are a rib out of place in the chest.Ā
Wow. Iām not making any sense, not even to myself.Ā I look at my hands again, the blood of my knuckles has combined itself with the blood of those I hurt. I canāt bring myself to feel sorry for them, but grief still burrows itself into me.Ā
These men were hurting girls. Children. The youngest that the masked men had tried to take was only 11. There was a time in which I was the frightened little girl, forced into a shipping crate with other frightened girls. Back then, all I had wanted was for it to be over. All I had wanted was for some kind of savior to break through the metal and fight off the monsters so that I could be anywhere else.Ā
Tonight I was that savior for those girls. I should feel better. I did something good. Natasha...sheād smile at me if she was here. Sheād look at me and tell me that I did good. That should make me feel content, more focused, like thereās some kind of direction I know to move in.Ā
But it doesnāt. All I feel is her absence. I even feel the loss of Yelena, and Iām the one that told her to stay away. My fingers curl inwards, nails digging into the palms of my hands.
āThat was efficient.ā His voice is a reminder of why I canāt lose it here, on the abandoned side of the shipping docks.
Turning enough to look at him, I force myself to take a deep breath. A patient breath. There was something almost awkward about the way he said that.Ā āYou wanted my help.ā I helped. I should feel better.Ā āAnd I played by your rules. No one died.ā The final word feels off.Ā āI wonāt apologize for my efficiency.āĀ
Heās still, watching me like he sees right through me. The part of me that clings to a life beyond bloody hands wants to shrink away. To vanish until itās morning. With daylight comes the promise of normality. The day will let me shed this mission suit and replace it with the business casual wear of an intern of a law firm. I like that version of me better...sheās whole.
āNo apologies necessary.ā I blink, fighting the urge to turn even more. Heās closer than I realized.Ā āIām just curious.āĀ
Of course. Thatās the problem with team ups or even just temporary mutual existence. The other person always wants to ask questions, and I can never offer them answers. Iām a former black widow assassin isnāt the kind of phrase that just rolls off the tongue. Especially not in front of him.Ā
The devil of Hellās Kitchen, someone that everyone here knows to fear, and yet he doesnāt...he doesnāt kill. If he knew all the blood that stains me, if he knew about all the red in my ledger...
āAnd Iām just reminding you that my one stipulation to this was no questions.ā
I knew this was a bad idea. Even when we just happen to run into each other he expresses too much interest in who I am. Why I can do the things I can do. I know that he feels like heās protecting his neighborhood by making sure that I donāt have any ill tensions. The false sense of security is a good thing, it means that we can both co-exist in peace. But tonight Iām not in the mood to play coy and skirt around the words I wonāt say, revealing just enough to appease him. Iām also not in the mood to draw a line in the sand and make him think Iām a threat. Thereās no doubt in my mind that if need be, I could take him. Heād be a worthy opponent, but not an unbeatable one. But maybe I donāt want to beat him. Maybe I donāt want to fight anymore. Maybe I just want to put my widow suit on the top shelf of my apartmentās closet and never look at it again.Ā
We should part ways. The bad guys have been taken care of. The girls have been freed, the way I could have been years ago. Thereās no reason for both of us to still be here. Thereās no reason fro him to be less than an armās length away. And yet, we both stay still.Ā
āYouāre normally more open to friendly conversation.ā The words snap me back to reality. Iāve been playing too close to a line I canāt cross. The last time I trusted someone, I learned to never do risk that again.
I force my hands to ease at my side.Ā āWeāre friends now?ā
āI donāt take down human trafficking rings with just anyone.ā Heās joking. Heās just trying to ease me into our normal dynamic. But the words still strike me in the heart. Memories of the day I got Natasha back and the day I stopped seeing Yelena as my protector wash through me, a torrid, unforgiving current.Ā
Itās been years now. Years of silence. I havenāt seen Nat since she told me what she was planning to do with the Avengers. I havenāt seen Yelena since she told me the truth of the day I became a true widow. The end of the red room was the first and last familial moment I got.Ā āFor the record, neither do I.āĀ
āAnd Iāve never taken anything down that fast.ā He pauses, testing the waters.Ā āIf you were always around, Iād have time to pick up a hobby.ā
Heās trying to appeal to my usual attitude. I have to give him something. Itās not his fault that the memories are hitting me more frequently than usual. And if I donāt seem at least somewhat stable, heāll start thinking Iām planning something. He may start seeing me as some kind of threat.Ā āIs the mysterious day job followed by nights of crime fighting not fulfilling enough?ā
āThe day job isnāt as interesting as youāre making it seem to be.ā Thereās an easiness to his words. Heās taking my attempt to act normal.
I shift on my heels, almost relaxing.Ā āI wouldnāt know because you wonāt tell me what it is.āĀ
āAnd you wonāt tell me how you learned to...be so efficient.ā Heās referencing the way I fight. I canāt blame him for pressing this issue so much. A random girl shows up in his city, his neighborhood, with brutal skills and strength that would better suit someone twice her size. Of course he feels the need to ask questions.Ā
I inhale, wondering what my next move is. I could remind him that the less we know about the other, the better. That I know not to ask questions as long as he does the same. But the thing is, I donāt want to. Maybe itās because heās faceless. Maybe itās because when I wear this suit I donāt feel like Iām me anymore. Or maybe itās because Iām tired of pretending my past is tearing into me more and more with each passing day.Ā
āWould you believe me if I told you itās a family thing?ā The honesty threatens to leave my throat raw. Iām treading on a dangerous line.Ā āThat I learned everything I know from my sisters?āĀ
He tilts his head slightly, exposing the side of his jaw--which is something I shouldnāt be as aware of as I am.Ā āSo an entire family of people like you? Fighting for the good?āĀ
I donāt have it in me to think about the wya he says that. The words are stomach twisting enough. Fighting for the good. Is that even a fair thing to say now? Natasha certainly started fighting for the good. I donāt know where Yelena is. And I--Iām just trying to make up for everything Iāve done, everything Iāve been forced to do.Ā
āWhat if we werenāt always doing that?ā My throat burns, the way it often did when I would tell Natasha about the memories. When I would tell her about being a ghost in my own body.Ā āFighting for the good?ā
I regret the words as soon as theyāre out of my mouth. Dropping my head, I prepare to step back. To disappear in the shadows in the way Iām used to. He starts to move. To his credit, heās faster than a normal person, so he does manage to place a hand on my shoulder, but not before my fingers wrap around his wrist. Itās his move next. Iām tense, expecting some kind of attack.Ā
āI would say that youāre doing that now.ā I watch him, he stays quiet. When nothing else is said...when nothing else is done, I find it in me to unclench my fingers and let my hand fall to my side. He still doesnāt move.Ā āAnd that counts for something.āĀ
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More Posts from Yesimwriting
JUST SAW MULTIVERSE OF MADNESS AND IM FINALLY DONE WITH SCHOOL!! THAT MOVIE INSPIRED ME SO MUCH,, SO IF YOU SEE ME WRITING A FIC FOR IT...Ā
i LOVED 48 hrs, the interactions between matt and the reader were brilliant!! would you be writing a part two?:) it was beautifully written!!
ahh hi!! thank you so much! yes im working on a second part and it should be up pretty soon!!
Hello,
I love your writing and think youāre incredible. I was wondering if you planned to continue the Promise of Rain series/blurbs or Falling Angels? The promise of rain blurbs are some of my favorite Kaz/Reader stories out there. Iāve probably reread them a hundred times or more.
I also really enjoyed your Kaz and Bookworm!Reader. I was curious if you planned on writing a sequel, because the ending to this broke my heart.
If you donāt plan on continuing these I totally understand, I was just curious. I love your writing so much and think you portray Kaz so accurately. I love your writing so much!
Anyway I hope you have a good day! š
thank you so much!! i am always open to continuing previous fics and have some more stuff planned for falling angles and the promise of rain (a fourth part of this one is like halfway done in my drafts)
This Time it's Different - Chapter Two
a/n i didn't expect this idea to get as much attention as it has??? thanks for the support and opportunity to share in my NWH angst
as always with this series,, major Spider-Man: No Way Home spoilers beneath the cut.
summary:Ā Only a few hours after the tragic death of his aunt, Peter not only meets two different versions of himself from different realities, he also learns two important things about the girl he never wanted to become friends with. Y/n, the girl whoās been his academic rival for years and accidental ally during the chaos that happened after Mysterio, was always meant to matter in his life. Both Spidermen that are in the wrong universe recognize her easily, and the Peter Parker of this universe learns that his y/n is meant to die.Ā
----
Y/nās POV
----
New York is never silent, especially if youāre with someone who has recently been revealed to be the masked hero (or villain, if you ask the Mysterio believers) of the city. But Peter insisted on coming with me. The fact that he canāt really walk down the street without being crowded and harassed by civilians and journalists is something that neither of us have mentioned.Ā
I know I need to bring it up before we walk outside of the school, but with the strange, resigned energy heās been radiating, I donāt want to bring up anything negative. I never thought Iād be going out of my way to protect Peter Parkerās feelings, but then again, a lot of things I thought would never happen are happening. Something needs to be said and yet I stay quiet. When I agreed to let him walk me back, thatās the most himself heās seemed since I got here.Ā
Maybe itās reminding him of what Spider-Man is meant to be. A guy with the ability to look out for people. The friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. He has to miss that.Ā
āWhere are you going?āĀ
He doesnāt stop walking as he turns his head in my direction. Peterās eyebrows are drawn together in a way that makes a nasty cut near his temple harder to look at. How did I miss that earlier?Ā āWeāre walking you back to your--āĀ
āYeah, and you just walked past the hallway that leads to the front of the school.āĀ
Peter pauses.Ā āI canāt walk out there, people and news reporters donāt let me anymore.āĀ
His thinly veiled uneasiness is momentarily characterized by a gut wrenching frustration. I take a deep breath, stepping towards him on instinct.Ā āThe back doorās not going to be any better.ā Itās not like thereās a news helicopter waiting outside of Midtown, but the moment weāre on public property, heāll be seen.Ā āI can walk back by myself, Iāll be fine.āĀ
He shakes his head once,Ā āNo--what I have planned is a lot faster than walking back to your house.āĀ
What else is there?Ā āA car?ā I really doubt that thatās what he means, but what else is there? Itās not like he can fly--oh. Oh heās insane.Ā āOh--no--āĀ
āY/n-āĀ
āNo, no--absolutely not.ā There is no way in hell Iām going to let him swing us around with nothing but the promise of death beneath us.Ā āI donāt want to be on the roof, let alone--ā I shake my head in an attempt to dismiss the knot in my stomach. āThere is nothing you can say or do to convince me that itās a good idea to let you swing me home.āĀ
āItās fast--āĀ
I scoff.Ā āYou know what else is fast? The speed that my body would plummet to the ground.ā Peter presses his lips together, the corner of his mouth struggling to angle itself downwards. Does he think this is funny?Ā āAre you laughing?āĀ
āNo,ā the answer comes too fast and too evidently false.Ā āNo--I--Iām trying not to.ā I glare at him. Most of the sympathy I was feeling quickly evaporates into the air.Ā āItās not you.ā
Ā I raise an eyebrow as he struggles to articulate whatās so funny about my completely rational reaction.Ā āItās not?āĀ
āOkay, I lied it is you, but not for the reason youāre thinking.ā What? Iām starting to wonder how hard he hit his head.Ā āItās just Iāve never seen you scared of anything. Even in the eighth grade spelling bee, when your friend started crying because the other kids were making fun of how badly she misspelled a word, you werenāt scared to go up there and spell the same word even more incorrectly.ā The eighth grade spelling bee is a vague memory that I probably never would have thought of again if it wasnāt for him. My stomach flutters in a way I donāt understand--I never even spoke to him in middle school, and he just knows that?Ā āAnd seeing you scared of something, itās um--itās a little funny. A little humanizing.āĀ
And there it is. He knows my fatal flaw is how I respond to a challenge.Ā āHumanizing? Iām not a--do I seem like a robot to you?āĀ Ā
āNo.ā His stupid trying-not-to-laugh smile comes back.Ā āMaybe like a cyborg.ā I roll my eyes. He can make all the jokes he wants, but thereās no way--āThatās scared of heights.āĀ
I cross my arms in front of me.Ā āI am not scared of heights.ā Peterās expression is not losing its amusement.Ā āI am not.ā
āIt makes sense, now I know why you almost freaked out on the plane ride to Europe--āĀ
āI did not almostĀ āfreak outā.ā I definitely did. A flight attendant tried to comfort me by giving me extra peanuts.Ā āI am not scared of heights, I was just really excited for the trip.āĀ
He holds his hands up in defense, his head tilting as if to sayĀ āprove itā.Ā āThis is so dumb.āĀ
āWhat is?ā The look on his face tells me he knows heās won.Ā
Itās bad enough that the only thing thatās going to keep me from splattering against traffic is a literal spiderweb and Peterās hold on me. He doesnāt need to hear me tell him heās getting his way.Ā āIf you drop me, Parker, I swear I will come back as a ghost for the sole purpose of haunting your ass.āĀ
Any trace of the smug joy of victory vanishes in an instant.Ā āIām not dropping you.āĀ
Thereās no room for argument, not even a fake one. I blink, no words forming in response to his intensity. He turns around before I have the chance to say anything, anyways. We walk in silence, me about three steps behind him until weāre at the door that leads to the stairs that will take us to the roof.Ā
Okay--okay. I can do this. I just have to walk up some stairs and then will my body to stand at the edge of a roof and then--donāt think about that part. I move up the stairs, my grip on the railings tightening with each step. When Peter pushes open the door that leads to the roof I have to fight the urge to run.Ā
He steps out casually. My fingers wonāt release the top of the railing.Ā āY/n?āĀ
This isnāt happening.Ā āYou win.ā Iām embarrassing myself, but at least thereās still ground beneath my feet.Ā āIām scared of heights. I totally freaked out on the flight to Europe, I spent the first fifteen minutes of it digging my nails into my arm rest. And I canāt do this.āĀ
A part of me braces for his gloating. Heās looking at me, something unreadable making up his expression. Peter steps towards me. He doesnāt stop until heās closer than heās ever been to me (with the exception of theĀ āyou just got into Harvardā hug). His hand moves, finding their place over my tense knuckles.Ā
āYou can do this.ā Peter patiently squeezes the hand thatās still clutching the railing.Ā āYou know how I know that?ā I shake my head, not in the mood for some other basic attempt to attack my ego in order to get me to do this.Ā āBecause you can do anything you tell yourself youāre going to do. Iāve seen you do it.ā The gentle praise is so unexpected Iām surprised I donāt get whiplash.Ā āIāve seen you ace chemistry classes you took as electives because you said you would.āĀ
I swallow once, easing enough to really look at Peter.Ā āThatās not the only reason.ā Why am I admitting this to him now?Ā āI also did it because I um--I wanted to keep up with you.āĀ
āThen donāt let me beat you at this.ā We lock eyes, and I really think that if things were even a little different, the slightest bit less tense, weād both have laughed.Ā
My hand releases the railing, but Peter doesnāt move away. He helps our fingers intertwine. If the warmth of his hand through the fabric of his suit wasnāt so assuring, Iād feel more embarrassed at the prospect of him walking me to the edge of the roof like a child.Ā
āOkay, Iām going to pick you up now. Iām not going to let you go, but you need to hold onto me.āĀ
Thatās the thing he needs to worry about least.Ā āMe holding onto you is not going to be a problem.ā The moment the words leave my mouth, a wave of regret crashes through me. Why would I say it like that?Ā āI just mean that--you know I donāt like heights so um--my grip, yāknow?āĀ
I force an awkward laugh out. Iāve been so nervous about the thought of dangling over the city, I didnāt have time to be nervous about anything else. But now Iām starting to register how close weāre going to have to be and the fact that heās literally going to be holding me. And heās in that Spider-Man suit, and until last week I was basically in love with Spider-Man. Okay--donāt make this weirder.Ā
āYeah--I-I know.ā He pauses, watching me carefully.Ā āIām um--Iām going to pick you up. Thatās okay, right?āĀ
āYeah.ā Iām begging myself to play this off as casual as it actually is. "Would it helped if I j--ā The hand thatās not holding mine finds its way around my waist. Less than a moment later, Iām pulled off the ground enough to cross my legs around his torso and wrap an arm around his chest.Ā āOr just casually lift me off the ground with one arm. Whateverās easiest.āĀ
He places an arm around my back.Ā āSpider-Man, spider strength. Sorry, I should have warned you.ā
Iām more thrown by our proximity than the lack of effort it took for him to pick me up with basically no hold on me.Ā āYouāre good.āĀ
Peter shifts slightly before expertly jumping onto the roofās parapet. My head instinctually snaps downwards. I donāt have time to make out anything. Peterās free hand reaches beneath my chin and forces me to look away so quickly all I see is a brief blur of dark colors.Ā
āDonāt look down, that will only make it worse.ā My stomach knots, and Iām not sure if itās because of whatās about to happen or because I just realized that weāre so close that all I would need to do is angle my head in order for our lips to touch. Why am I thinking of that? Stop it.Ā
I nod, forcing down the rising nerves in my chest.Ā āGot it.āĀ
āIām going to go now.āĀ
Heās going to jump off the roof with you. Focus on something else, not on whatās about to happen. Think about literally anything else. Okay--well the multiverse is falling apart. And there are three Peter Parkers. No. That stuff is bad. Think about Harvard, the future that Iāve always wanted and wonāt get if the world literally falls apart. Okay, think about...think about um--Peter. And how this isnāt the worst feeling. Actually, itās kind of nice because heās warm and smells nice and--oh my god, I think this is more damaging than thinking about falling to my death.Ā
āYeah, on the count of three?ā So that I can freak out right before?Ā āActually, no, just do it.āĀ
āYou sure?āĀ
āYeah--yes, as long as I donāt know.ā I squeeze my eyes shut burring my face into his shoulder.
Heās going to jump. I know it.Ā āWait.āĀ
What is it? Does he feel like heās about to drop me? Or maybe heās realizing how insane this is.Ā āY-yeah?āĀ
āYou still live in the same apartment you lived in sophomore year?āĀ
Right. Sophomore year to work on our joint science fair project. We didnāt want to work together, but we knew
Peter listened to me a little too quickly. He took off while I was still speaking. Iād kill him if I wasnāt so busy clinging to him like my life depends on it, because it does. My arms squeeze around his neck a little tighter as I feel us dip. Another yelp threatens to come out as I press my head even further into his neck.Ā
Okay, the initial terror only takes a few minutes to pass. Iām still not having a good time, but at least I donāt feel like Iām going to die at any given moment. Once Iāve adjusted to the feeling of slightly subsided panic, I realize that thereās more to whatās happening than the threat of death.Ā
Wind is blowing through my hair in that exciting way. Like when you roll down the windows as you drive down the hallway. But times a thousand--in a surprisingly good way. And the longer I think about that, the more my fear twists into something more similar to the feeling one gets the moment their roller coaster begins to moves. Only this is much more nauseating.Ā
Like everything else thatās happened today, this is insanely confusing. I turn my head upwards slightly, forcing my eyes to squint open while keeping most of my face safely pressed into Peterās shoulder. Weāre moving too fast for me to make anything out, and I canāt tell if thatās comforting or not. The blur of city lights and the night sky is a collage I never thought Iād enjoy. But this is still the most nerve wracking situation Iāve ever been in.
Peter swings so low his feet almost touch the pavement. I squeeze him a little harder again. He swings even lower, placing us on the ground. The transition is fairly seamless, but the change is enough to make me shut my eyes again.Ā
āYou can open your eyes now.ā There is no more wind or unsteady sensation. Weāre on the ground...we made it and he didnāt drop me and it wasnāt the worst thing Iād ever experienced.
I lift my head, blinking at him.Ā āSo thatās what it feels like, when you um--you do the whole web thing?ā Despite myself, I laugh and Iām not sure if itās because the adrenaline or motion sickness.Ā āAnd you do that all the time?āĀ
āPretty much,ā he admits, laughing in the same awkward way as me.Ā āSorry--itās normally a little smoother, Iām not used to having a passenger.ā
Right, he may be strong enough to support me with shocking ease, but it has to be a little distracting. And...heās still holding me. Is it weird it took me so long to realize that?Ā āRight, I um--and Iām still on you.ā I pull even more away from him.Ā āSorry.āĀ
I unlock my legs, and Peter places a hand above my hip to offer me support as I jump off of him. His hold lingers, which I appreciate because my legs are less steady than I expect them to be.Ā āYouāre good. You did it.ā Instinctually, my hand moves to touch his. He doesnāt pull away, which is something I canāt help but take note of.Ā āAnd it wasnāt that bad.āĀ
āNo,ā shockingly true,Ā āit wasnāt that bad. It was--it was insane and terrible and one of the coolest things Iāve ever done.ā
Ā Peter looks--rightfully--surprised.Ā āSo you liked it?āĀ
Heās smiling at me like Iāve lost it. I laugh in that same excited, nervous way.Ā āYes!ā I inhale, turning to look at me.Ā āAnd I--I also kind of never want to do it again. Itās really confusing.āĀ
āI can tell.ā He takes a step back, turning towards the entrance of my apartment. Peter takes a step forward--is he...
āPeter, where are you going?āĀ
āTo your house?āĀ
I move to stand in front of him.Ā āNo, no, no--you canāt go up with me.ā Is he seriously confused?Ā āI just got into Harvard, if my mom sees you, sheāll lock me in my room until graduation.ā
āYour mom liked me when we worked on that project together.āĀ
āThat was before being associated with you impacted college admissions.ā The words leave me a little more harshly than they should, and they definitely sound much more harsh than they should.
Ā I donāt know where that intensity came from. I definitely donāt blame Peter for anything that happened with his college thing, but it did happen. And it impacted Ned and MJ too. I know I got into Harvard, but thereās no guarantee that they wonāt revoke that acceptance. All Iāve ever wanted, all my family has ever wanted. I could lose that.Ā
And I donāt care.Ā
I donāt care? I blink, inhaling as the realization washes over me. Obviously saving the multiverse is extremely important, but if it was just that Iād be annoyed. But Iām not annoyed--I donāt care. Literally. There has to be some other subconscious reason.Ā
Okay--personal realization aside, I shouldnāt have said that. It brought back all the sad shadows that had just started to disappear.Ā āParker, I--āĀ
Heās turning away.Ā āNo, I--āĀ
āNo, I--āĀ
āDonāt. What you said is true.āĀ
āNo, I need--āĀ
āBut that doesnāt mean--āĀ
āItās--ā
āPeter.ā His first name makes him pause. I get it, Iāve only called him that a number of times.Ā āI shouldnāt have said that. I didnāt--it doesnāt matter.ā I hate saying this.Ā āSome things matter more than Harvard.āĀ
āSome things matter more than Harvard?āĀ
Hearing those words said back to me knots my stomach. They donāt feel like something Iād say ever.Ā āYeah.ā Affirming that statement almost kills me. I awkwardly scratch the back of my arm.Ā āYou know what? Come up with me, my mom will probably be. so happy about the fact that I got in that sheāll be incapable of being mad about anything.āĀ
He eyebrows draw together.Ā āNo, y/n, itās okay.āĀ
Itās not.Ā āYou canāt stay out here, Iām surprised a news helicopter isnāt above us right now. I think you have like three minutes before people realize who you are and start crowding you.āĀ
āI know.ā Heās so confusing today. Is he planning on leaving?Ā āYour bedroom leads to a fire escape, right?āĀ
āYeah, but--ā I am honestly so slow.Ā āOh, youāre insane.ā Sighing, I pretend not to notice the slight smile on his face.Ā āIām on the thirteenth floor, my window has the purple curtains with the fairy lights hanging from them.āĀ
Peter nods.Ā āThirteenth floor, purple curtains, fairy lights.āĀ
I nod as well, turning to walk towards my apartment. I get to the front door of the building before looking behind me. Peterās watching me and he instinctually snaps his head away when he notices me.Ā
I donāt think Iāve ever been in such a hurry to get into my apartment and get out. The elevator takes forever, but eventually I get to the thirteenth floor. I walk down the hall until I reach my front door.Ā
āY/n!ā My mom is at the door, pouncing the moment she hears my keys.Ā āYou got in!āĀ
She pulls me into a hug that makes me want to tell her everything thatās going on. But the less she knows the better. Why take away from her joy?Ā āYeah, I did!āĀ
She pulls away enough to look me in the eye.Ā āIām so proud, and we have so many people to call.āĀ
After four brief and emotional phone calls, I manage to convince my mom to give me a break. She says we need to call at least three more relatives and two girls from her work that she needs to prove something to. All I can think about is the fact that Peter may or may not be in my room right now. I know the most important thing is getting this done as quickly as possible, but I need to know if heās here or not. Itās ridiculous to think that something bad happened to him in the little time weāve been apart, but the not knowing is driving me crazy.Ā
āMom, I need like five minutes. My phone is almost dead and I promised my friends Iād meet them after this.āĀ
She barely looks away from scrolling through her contacts.Ā āSure, go ahead.āĀ
I walk into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water just in case. Walking to my room has never felt this nerve wracking. I open the door and slip inside of my room without taking in my surroundings.
My room seems empty. The fire escape window is closed. Did he not make it up here? I place my phone and the glass of water on my night stand.Ā āPeter?āĀ
The door to my closet creaks. I take a step back. My breathing stalls in my chest until I see that itās just Peter.Ā āOh my god--why are you in the closet?āĀ
āI heard the door start to open, and I didnāt know if it was going to be you or not.āĀ
I suppress a laugh, because what happened isnāt actually that funny.Ā āI um--I brought a glass of water in case you wanted it.āĀ
He steps out of the closet, walking towards the side of my bed like thereās nothing strange about being here. I guess because of everything thatās happened, him standing in my bed room is no longer the unfathomable thing it once was. But heās adjusting to being in my space with an ease Iām not sure I understand.Ā āThanks.āĀ
āYou can sit if you want.āĀ
My bed lightly creaks as I reach into my nightstand. I turn to hand him the glass, but have to stop myself from running into his chest. How did I not hear him walk closer to me? Is that another Spider-Man thing? I hold the cup out towards him. Peter goes to grab it and our fingers touch. Weāve touched multiple times today--he literally carried me here. And yet something about the way his hand lingers is different.Ā
Itās different from our hug, and when he held my hand so that Iād walk onto the roof. Itās even different from when I was literally on him. Itās somehow...fuller. Magnetized. A quick current runs through my fingers. I let go of the glass, breaking the almost-spell.Ā ā...Shocked me.ā The sound I let out, a mix between a laugh and a dismissive scoff, only adds to the twisting feeling of awkwardness.Ā āI um--I could get you some tylenol or...actually, Iām not sure thatād help much. You look like you should be seen by a doctor.āĀ
The corner of his mouth turns up slightly.Ā āIām fine. Iāve been hit worse.āĀ
I donāt like how easy that is to believe. My eyes focus on the deep gash that cuts into his eyebrow. Not too long ago, I had an injury that looked similar to that. I turn towards my night stand again. When I open the drawer, the antiseptic ointment is right where I left it.Ā
Peter observes me calmly until I move to kneel on my bed.
āWhat are you doing?āĀ
I squeeze a fair amount of ointment onto my pointer finger.Ā āMaking sure bad guys have the opportunity to take out Spider-Man before a preventable infection does.āĀ
āIām fine.ā
āAnd Iām putting this on you whether you think you need it or not so stay still.āĀ
He doesnāt move away. I hesitate when my finger is just shy of his cut. I donāt want to touch it, to cause him more pain. Biting my tongue softly to prevent from wincing, I I press the ointment to his temple, spreading it with my finger as lightly as possible.Ā āThere, Iām done.āĀ
I screw the lid back onto the ointment and move from a kneeling position and into a sitting one.Ā āYour cutās all better.āĀ
My eyes drop to the ointment.Ā āYeah, it um--it healed surprisingly fast.āĀ
āNo one saw you for days, I wouldnāt call that fast.āĀ
āIt was a rough couple of days, but I was lucky.āĀ I start to trace the letters on the antiseptic.Ā āThatās what everyone tells me, anyways.ā
āBut you donāt think so?āĀ
Iāve given no one details of last monthās accident. And I donāt want to.Ā āMy memories of right after donāt match with what Iām told.āĀ
āThere was a fire, right?āĀ
My hand turns into a fist around the ointment.Ā āThe bookstore I work at...I was taking inventory and I saw that a first addition of Alice in Wonderland was missing. Mr. Austins owns the shop and is really strict about these things, so I went to the basement. Thatās where he keeps some of the rarer stuff and books that need repairs. He never wants me down there, but I knew that book was missing. When I got down there, something was off and there was a loose wire and--ā The memories blur together.Ā āI donāt know, I thought the books were at risk and then--then there was something. An explosion, or a--um, fuse malfunction. And then there was fire. I saw the fire in the attic, but Mr. Austin and the EMTs found me upstairs.āĀ
My body has healed on the outside. The only thing thatās left that announces to the world that anything ever happened is the fading bruises on my legs and collar bone. But I donāt feel like itās over. I donāt feel like anythingās truly healed.Ā āIām sorry.āĀ
Heās the last person that should feel bad for anyone.Ā āPlease, you go through ten times worse for a good cause. My dumb accident isnāt something you need to feel bad about.ā I take a deep breath, begging myself to change the topic before I say something I regret. The accident was just an accident. A freak, in the moment kind of thing that anyone else would have gotten over by now.Ā āItās not the pain that makes me keep thinking about it...itās the way the pain stopped. I know Iām better and Iām lucky, but I feel like I didnāt heal right. Like something is different and I donāt know what it is but I know Iām not supposed to talk about it.āĀ
The confession feels wrong, but Peter doesnāt give any indication of that.Ā āDifferent?āĀ
I take a deep breath.Ā āYeah.ā I donāt regret telling this to him, but that doesnāt mean Iām ready to dissect it.Ā āI should um--I should go back and finish those phone calls so that we can get back to doing the wholeĀ āmultiverse savingā thing.ā
I stand up, desperate to escape the energy that I accidentally created.Ā āIāll um--Iāll see you in like ten minutes.āĀ
āY/n?āĀ Ā
I spin on my heels, my eyes landing on Peter the moment Iām facing him.Ā āYeah?ā
He holds my gaze for a long moment before speaking.Ā āI think you should stay here.āĀ
Peter presses his lips together the second the words are out.Ā āWhat?āĀ
āI think it might be better if you donāt come.ā He raises a hand as if he wants to elaborate but then just awkwardly drops it to his side.Ā āYou um--you helped a lot with that anti-serum thing, but now--āĀ
āNow youāre done with me.āĀ
āNo, thatās not how I--ā
āThatās the only possible way to mean that.ā The sudden rejection hits me straight in the chest. He canāt see that.Ā āItās whatever, itās not like we were really friends.āĀ
āY/n--āĀ
Dismissing him with a wave of my arm, I begin to walk to the door of my bedroom.Ā āYou can go out the way you came.āĀ
My hand grabs the doorknob as something in me hopes that heāll say something else. Or that heāll take it back. Or that--Something small and sticky strikes my arm. The thing pulls at me, forcing me to turn back around.Ā
Peter blinks at me as I stare at the white line thatās connecting my arm to his wrist.Ā āDid you just web shoot me?āĀ
He, at least, has the decency to briefly look somewhat apologetic as he releases me.Ā āIām not telling you not to come to hurt you. I just--you canāt be there.āĀ
Oh, heās lost it. āLike you could ever hurt me.āĀ I scoff, the sound ugly and artificial.Ā āI donāt care if you want me there or not. I donāt care if youāre my friend or not. But you canāt pretend to be my friend and then treat me like Iām disposable for no reason.āĀ
āI donāt think youāre disposable.āĀ
āReally? Because youāre disposing of me right now.āĀ
āNo, thatās not--āĀ
āYes it is! And youāre doing it to be mean, because I can--āĀ
āNo.āĀ
I sigh, crossing my arms as if that will keep me from yelling and alerting my mom of his presence.Ā āPut aside the fact that we canāt be left alone for more than thirty minutes without fighting, but weāve been doing good.ā The last part leaves me much more shakily than it should.Ā āSo good.ā Stop it, you canāt make him like you, but you can keep him from knowing how much it hurts.Ā āAnd I can help Ned and MJ--you know I can.āĀ
āThat doesnāt matter.āĀ
I donāt know what shifted, but somethingās changed. Something must have reminded him of our usual dynamic. But that shouldnāt be enough for this. Even on our worst days, I never thought heād hate me enough to do this. I know Iām not a super hero and my help doesnāt necessarily mean much, but this could be the end of the multiverse. Any help must be worth something. āGet over our stupid thing for two seconds, and think about the greater good!āĀ
āI canāt.āĀ
Heās not yelling, heās not even looking at me. That makes it worse. Anger and hurt pulses through my body. I exhale. The lights in my room flicker in the way they normally do before a short outage. This building has been having more and more of them lately. I miss when that was my greatest personal problem.Ā
āAt least tell me why youāre being so weird!āĀ
He takes a deep breath.Ā āBecause I donāt want you there, and we--we donāt need you.āĀ
Wow. He is such an asshole. This is what I get for thinking I could ever trust him in any capacity.Ā āThen go, because if youāre going to be this hot and cold I donāt want to go with you.āĀ
Peter frowns, walking around my bed and towards the fire escape. Once heās gone I just stand there for a long second. My eyes are watering. I was so stupid. I thought--
I donāt even know what I thought. It doesnāt matter. Peter Parker and I arenāt friends, weāre barely anything. But I have a responsibility to see this multiverse thing through, right? Or, at least, I have a responsibility to make sure things are going well.Ā
Not for Peterās sake, but for my friends. I flop onto my bed and pull my phone from my pocket. Unlocking it, I open my messaging app and begin to type a text to MJ. I get two words in before my phone dies. Great--fantastic.
Groaning, I drop my phone onto my bed, leaning over to find my charger. The second I plug in my phone, it lights up. 100 percent battery. Thatās um--it has to be a glitch. I unplug it and plug it back in and nothing changes. What was that about?Ā
Maybe something is up with my charger? I reach over to the lamp on my bedside table, searching forĀ āonā switch. My fingers graze the metal neck of the lamp and the light turns on immediately. Okay, two power related, strange things have happened back to back. The last time electricity acted this strange around me was in the book store.Ā
Iām losing it. Okay, only one way to ease my nerves. I lean down, unplugging my lamp from the wall. When I sit up again, the lamp is off. Okay. I let out a sigh of relief, my hand relaxing against my nightstand, my fingers just barely brushing against the base of the lamp. The light flickers on.Ā
Okay, this is just--this is--
I move my hand away and the lamp turns off. I touch it and it turns on.Ā
Oh my god. I laugh, frustrated, a little scared, and excited. Oh, I need to call Ned right now.Ā
----
Taglist:Ā @alexa135 @gabiatthedisco @bimboshaggy @hoe-4-sebstan @deadphantomsociety @angie1djonasgg @callmebyyourhoeĀ @shirtwithnobrimĀ @lovesfics @angelicvsmic @i-bitch-you-bitch @nikt-wazny-y @theawesomeloner @galaxypotter @callmebyyourhoe
okay i keep binge watching the great on hulu and i am so obsessed with it fr,, i kind of want to write for it (especially for peter, ik heās extremely toxic and kinda a bad person but this is extremely on brand for me lmao)
i feel like thereās not an audience for it?? idk might write it or might not but if anyone likes the idea pls let me knowĀ