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starryviolentine · 5 years

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Brody’s Diary (Revised Edition): Chapter 9

Part one of the “Pre-Apocalypse Adventures” Series

Chapter 1 ( here ) Chapter 5 ( here ) Chapter 2 ( here ) Chapter 6 ( here ) Chapter 3 ( here ) Chapter 7 ( here ) Chapter 4 ( here ) Chapter 8 ( here ) The wind blows Brody’s hood from her head as she jumps out into the rainstorm, boots splashing against the flooding bell tower roof as she rushes towards her friend while shouting her name. Therissa follows close behind, lighting a path for them with her flashlight and yelling at Brody to be careful. Relief washes over both girls as they approach Violet, but it soon vanishes and is replaced with worry once they’re near enough to actually see the state their roommate is in.

Violet sits motionless, curled up into herself so tightly as though trying to make herself disappear, and is completely drenched from head to toe. Every piece of clothing on her body is soaked and her hair is matted and plastered to her head. Her eyes are dark and empty, staring into nothingness. Therissa shines the flashlight in Violet’s direction and Brody calls her name, but the girl remains silent and still, giving no indication that she’s even aware of their presence.

Crouching beside her friend, Brody can now see how violently Violet’s small frame is shaking. “Vi, can you hear me?”

Therissa bends over to get a closer look. Her youngest roomie is in pretty bad shape. Not only is she not responding to any of Brody’s questions, but she doesn’t even seem to hear them. “Okay. Fuck. We need to get her inside.”

“Vi, come on…” Brody reaches out and holds the sides of Violet’s face in her hands in an attempt to get the girl to look at her. To see her. “Please… Let’s go back…”

The warmth of Brody’s palms against her friend’s icy cheeks seems to have rekindled the flame inside Violet’s brain. The frozen girl blinks and moves her head slightly.

“Vi! You… You’re okay… Can you get up?” asks Brody, voice quivering almost as much as Violet’s body. She doesn’t get an answer. It’s almost as if Violet has lost her ability to speak. She turns to her older roommate for help. “What do we do?”

Therissa shoves the flashlight at Brody and starts shrugging out of her hoodie. “You’re gonna help us get down from here.”

“W-what?”

After pulling her hoodie over Violet’s head and torso, Therissa scoops the girl up bridal style. She’s lucky that Violet weighs next to nothing or else this would be much more difficult. The teenager speaks to Violet, words as sharp as ever, but her tone is gentle and reassuring. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not letting you freeze yourself to death. You’re coming back with us.”

Therissa holds Violet’s frigid and limp body close. “Brody, you need to lead the way. Make sure we can see the stairs. I’m gonna have to carry her, but we need to go now.”

Swallowing the lump that has formed in her throat, Brody finds her courage and nods. Therissa’s counting on her. Violet needs her. Grasping the flashlight tightly in her hands, Brody walks in front and leads the way, pausing every few steps to check on how Therissa and Violet are doing. Each of Therissa’s steps are careful and deliberate. She makes sure both feet are planted firmly on every wooden step before taking another, and she stops every so often to readjust her grip on Violet. The descent down the long staircase is slow and incredibly nerve-racking, but the teen grits her teeth and presses on.

She swears on her life that she’s going to get this girl back on the ground safely.

The rest of the journey from the bell tower to the dormitory is a blur. Therissa isn’t sure how she managed to carry Violet all the way back to their bedroom without falling or dropping her. It must have been the adrenaline. Her heart is still racing. Sure, Violet has been found, but they’re not out of the woods yet.

“We’re gonna use your bed, okay?” Therissa tells Brody, out of breath and arms ready to give out any second. She sets Violet down on the bottom bunk. “Grab towels. Blankets. All of them.”

Using the back of her hand, Therissa feels Violet’s forehead. Her skin is like ice and she’s pale as death. But the thing that frightens the teen the most is how much her roommate is shivering. She almost looks like she’s convulsing. They need to warm her up immediately.

“All right, you can be pissed or whatever at me later, but this is so you don’t die,” warns Therissa before starting to strip Violet of her wet clothes. She takes her hoodie off, then peels the girl’s waterlogged top and undershirt off. Brody reappears, holding all three of their bath towels and their blankets. “Brody, get her shoes and socks, will you?” Therissa unbuttons Violet’s jeans and yanks those off as well. “Don’t worry, I’m not looking. And you and Brody shower together, don’t you? Nothing she hasn’t already seen, either.”

Once her clothes are off, Therissa and Brody wrap Violet in bath towels, two around her body and one around her head to absorb the water that’s still dripping from her hair. Taking one of the extra blankets that Brody grabbed, Therissa starts to layer it over the girl, but then pauses. “Hey, you wanna get in there?”

Brody tilts her head at Therissa. “Huh?”

The teen gestures at Violet with a nod of her head. “Body heat might warm her up faster.”

No other explanation is needed. Brody shrugs out of her rain poncho, kicks off her boots, and then climbs into her bed right next to Violet. Therissa finishes wrapping her roommates in blankets and then heads for the door.

“Stay put. I’m gonna go get someone,” says Therissa. “Keep talking to her, okay? And make sure she stays awake.”

Violet is shaking really hard, and Brody can feel it through the layers of blankets. She feels awful for her friend. Wriggling her arms free inside Therissa’s blanket cocoon, Brody feels around for Violet’s hands. Finding them, she presses them in between her own to try and warm them up faster. Violet’s fingers are frozen. Her whole body is practically radiating cold.

“You’re gonna be okay, Vi,” Brody tells Violet, snuggling up as close as she can against her. The auburn-haired girl sighs. “You scared me… I was so worried that you were gone forever.”

Violet doesn’t respond, but she turns her head slightly towards Brody.

“I’m sorry,” Brody apologizes, voice thick with emotion. “I’m so, so sorry. I know you didn’t take my diary. It was my own fault.”

Violet’s teeth begin to chatter, and, concerned, Brody pulls away slightly to examine her. Violet’s mouth is open, jaw trembling, and she looks like she wants to say something. Brody waits and listens, but after a few moments of silence she figures that her friend is still too cold to speak.

“I guess I accidentally forgot it in Dr. Larson’s office,” continues Brody, shamefully, “and she had it the whole time. I’m sorry for blaming you. I should’ve listened when you said you didn’t do it. I-I was just really, really upset…”

“Y-you… don’t hate me…?” Violet’s voice is scratchy and dry as these are her first words since the morning. She coughs a little.

“Hate you...?” Brody furrows her brows in confusion, but then she remembers the harsh words she left Violet with the previous afternoon. “Oh, Vi, of course not... I’m sorry for saying what I said.”

Violet is tired. Really tired. Her limbs feel heavy and it’s taking a lot of effort to get her words out. “But… I was mean to you… I called your diary ‘stupid’…” Her voice is so quiet that Brody has to lean in extremely close in order to hear her. “But I didn’t… I didn’t mean it…”

“I know.” Brody wraps her arms around Violet in a hug and rests her head on her shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re still my best friend.”

Violet closes her eyes as the embrace envelops her in warmth that seems to reach all the way through to her core. She uses the rest of her energy to lift one arm around Brody to return the hug. “Sorry…”

After the girls hug it out, Brody pulls back again. “How are you feeling?”

“Still cold…” Violet curls up tighter under the blankets. “And tired…”

“Don’t worry, Therissa went to get help. She’ll be back soon,” reassures Brody.

Now that she’s slowly warming up and her mind is less foggy, Violet realizes that Therissa’s the one who must have carried her back. She’s the one who must have dried her off and covered her with these blankets. Of course Brody helped out, too, but…

Suddenly everything clicks. Violet audibly groans.

“Are you okay?” asks Brody, concerned.

“I can’t believe Therissa saw me in my underwear...”

Brody tries to stifle a giggle, but it doesn’t work.

“It’s not funny,” Violet mumbles, frowning. She pictures her oldest roommate and pulls one of the blankets over her eyes in embarrassment. Speaking of Therissa, Violet hopes that she’s not going to come back to the room with a bunch of grown-ups in tow. She heaves a long, dreary sigh. “I’m gonna be in so much trouble…”

The bedroom door bursts open with so much force that the doorknob rebounds off the wall, leaving a visible dent in the plaster. Preparing herself for the worst, Violet sinks deeper into the blankets.

“Brody? Brody! How’s she doing?”

Violet wonders who this breathless, distressed voice belongs to because it certainly, couldn’t possibly be her tough, moody teenage roommate’s.

“Therissa! She’s okay!” calls Brody, giving a thumbs-up from her spot on the bed. She then notices that another woman has followed Therissa into the room. “Hi, Ms. Martin.”

Therissa rushes over to the edge of the bed and pulls the covers off of Violet’s head. The younger girl looks up at the teen sheepishly. Violet watches as the older girl’s expression changes from worried to relieved. But then Therissa’s face contorts in anger, and Violet flinches as a hand comes towards her. Bracing herself, Violet squeezes her eyes shut, but Therissa doesn’t hit her. Instead, the teen pinches her cheek, not enough to hurt, but enough to show her disapproval. Brody, alarmed at the sudden display, watches her roommates anxiously with wide eyes.

“You’re the biggest dumbass,” snarls Therissa, pulling on the girl’s cheek. “Don’t even think about doing anything like that ever again, you hear me? Good lord, Violet...”

Violet swallows and nods. The teen crosses her arms tightly across her chest and shakes her head, then quickly turns away and goes to stand by her desk at the foot of the bed. She leaves so abruptly that Violet doesn’t have time to get a closer look, but she swears that Therissa’s eyes looked somewhat glassy. Glancing to the side at her friend, Violet wonders if Brody saw it, too.

“Hi there,” Ms. Martin comes over to the bed and greets Violet. In one of her hands is her white nurse’s bag full of medical supplies. “Mind if I take a look? Just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Brody moves off the bed to give the nurse some space. Ms. Martin takes Violet’s temperature and asks her a few questions. She also checks her pulse and listens to her breathing.

“Well, girls, it looks like you found Violet just in time,” says Ms. Martin, taking the buds of her stethoscope out of her ears. She smiles and pats her patient on the shoulder reassuringly. “You’re going to be fine. Just stay under those covers until you feel better. Come and see me if you start feeling worse.”

“Thank you,” Violet says softly.

“Warm fluids should help,” Ms. Martin adds. “Would you girls like some hot cocoa? I’ll lend you my kettle for the night.”

The two younger girls share a look and break out into excited grins. “Yes, please!”

“Very well,” says the nurse, repacking her bag. “I’ll be back in a bit with the kettle and some dry sheets and blankets. Seeing as you girls haven’t had dinner yet, either, I’ll talk to the kitchen staff and see what we can do.”

The three girls thank Ms. Martin, who steps out momentarily before returning with the promised items. She assists Brody and Therissa with moving Violet, still wrapped up like a burrito, to the other bed as they replace the wet blankets and sheets with dry ones. Before heading back to her office for the evening, Ms. Martin hands Therissa a few packets of hot chocolate mix and three mugs.

Brody and Violet watch curiously as the nurse exchanges a few hushed words with their older roommate. The conversation is too quiet for them to eavesdrop, so they merely look at each other and shrug. After a few moments, Ms. Martin touches Therissa on the shoulder and smiles kindly at her before stepping back and addressing all three of them.

“Take it easy tonight, girls,” she says. “You’ve been through a lot. I’ll drop by tomorrow morning to check up on you.”

Brody and Violet bid the nurse goodnight. Therissa’s expression is still sour, but she gives a small wave as Ms. Martin leaves their bedroom. As soon as the door shuts, Therissa, wordlessly, goes to sit at her desk, leaving Violet feeling uneasy. Brody, preoccupied with boiling water in the kettle and emptying cocoa mix into mugs, doesn’t notice the uncomfortable silence. Violet hugs the blankets around her more tightly, and not because she’s still cold.

Even when Brody finishes preparing their drinks and the sweet aroma of chocolate fills the room, it doesn’t quite comfort Violet the way she thought it would.

#twdg violet #twdg brody #brody twdg #violet twdg #fanfic #my art #twdg #the walking dead game #this was the hardest part to write so far #the wording #the pacing #brody's diary

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thecreativeangel · 5 years

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aut neca aut necare: VI

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: You try once more to apologize to Peter (not successfully) and Spiderman thinks it’s a good idea to bring up your family.

Warnings: A hoe needs D E P R E S S O

Words: 3.1k wow i need a life

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

“Hi Peter. Sorry I got in a completely meaningless fight with you and brought up the death of your parents. We're cool, right?”

Yeah, that wasn't going to pass. You stared with half bleary eyes at the phone in your hand, a paragraph long text message highlighted in blue, about to be deleted. This was the fifth…sixth? Sixth attempt at an astounding apology that would make Peter so emotional he’d forgive you in an instant. So far, everything you wrote turned out to be shit. Every text was too long, too pathetic and clingy. And it became apparent to you that as of recently, your texts to Peter had to be perfect. Even before the fight you’d been double checking the spelling, triple checking to make sure there weren’t too many emojis.

Is adding a period too formal? Too strict? And yes, you knew very well why you were acting like this but refused to say it out loud.

After huffing through your nose, you pressed delete and half an hour’s worth of typing was gone. The sound of heavy boats cutting through water was really helping right then, to calm nerves and such. You closed your eyes and dangled your feet over the side of the warehouse. The tracker you'd put on one of Kim’s “henchmen” (could a high school student really have henchmen?) had been still for two hours now, and the video you could get on your phone was of the spider-tracker crawling up and down a man’s pant leg. The doors were locked. The live feed was silent, save for the man pacing; he was alone.

A boat horn rang through the night air, startling a cat that was sleeping on the fence down below. That reminds me, you thought. Haven't gone to Delmar’s in a while. Your phone screen’s light illuminated your face, the blank text box ever present. Okay, go simple. Don't be a dumbass. Straight to the point. I've got this. Your fingers moved nimbly by themselves, typing out the shortest thing you could think of.

“‘I'm sorry’ isn't enough right now, I know. See you at school.”

You hit send and watched the text until “delivered” appeared in small blue letters right below. Was that too up front? Probably. Was he going to forgive you because of one text, no matter how long? No. Never. You looked up at the stars and sighed, feeling a cold gust of wind flow past your cheeks. With the mask off, details about your surroundings were more clear. Everything was in high definition, but that made it hard to focus. Spidey was right; your senses were dialed up to 11, too much input and not enough capacity for storage.

Looking back down at your phone, you saw that “delivered” had changed to “read”.

Peter already saw what you wrote. He didn't bother to reply.

You made a high pitched scream at the back of your throat, frustration and shame warming your cold cheeks. I’m an idiot! Of course he still hates me- I brought up his fucking dead parents! I was the first person he opened up to after they died, and now I’ve gone and fucked up. You kicked your legs over the side of the warehouse and laid spread angled on the tin roof. This was the warehouse you’d been visiting for a few days now. Almost a week. It was only half a mile from where you saw the tall grey alien talk to Kimberly and her bosses. Sure, you should be more careful than texting while hunting down dangerous criminals, but after a few days of spending nightly hours on the roof, it had grown boring. Tame. The giant garage door was locked and from a tiny crack in the wall you only saw a giant, empty warehouse.

You were close to giving up when a car pulled into the alley on your side of the roof. A boy stepped out, loudly smacking on gum and locking the car equally loudly. Still laying down, you peeked over the side of the roof. He, a younger kid, by the sound of it, was with a girl. She talked quickly, nervously. A lazy grin slid across your face; Kimberly was never good at whispering.

“Spit that shit out before I make you,” she finally snapped. You heard a “whooey” sound and a wet splat, meaning he did as told.

“It calms me down,” he explained serenely, as if appeasing a toddler. “Maybe you should try it, since you’re so worked up. Maybe you’ll stop annoying dad all the time.”

The garage doors slid up, rumbling so badly you felt the tremors in your entire body. Their voices faded and before they did, you heard Kimberly retort: “Dad likes me better anyway.” So that’s Kim’s brother? The three menacing, scary hooded figures that talked to the grey alien were a...family? SERIOUSLY?

“Hey,” a voice hissed, poking your shoulder. On reflex, you blindly grabbed (an...arm?) and threw them away, fully prepared to then launch yourself at the target because if they wanted to fight then-

“Ow, what the fuck!” Spidey gasped, holding his bruised bicep.

“Shit- don’t sneak up on me like that!” you cried.

“Why-” he seemed to wince, rubbing the sore spot. “D’you always try an’ kill people when they do that?!”

“Well I was kind of in the middle of something!” you argued, glancing nervously over the ledge at the half dozen parked vans. “Friggin’ intense bad guy shit was happening and you just sneak up on me outta nowhere…”

“What’s intense is your grip,�� Spidey murmured, rolling his shoulder. “Is that ‘cause of your powers or are you a gym rat?”

“Okay Mr. ‘I Can Stop A Moving Train’,” you said, putting a hand on your hip. "Not everyone knows how to control their strength.”

He snickered and plopped down on the ledge of the warehouse. “No seriously. Powers or its always been like that?”

“Uh…” you sat down next to him. “Powers I think. Dunno, I’ve always been able to slap a bitch who needs it.”

Spidey pouted under his mask. “Aww, am I your bitch?”

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from cackling. “Say that again, but slowly.”

“Am I y- oh,” he laughed awkwardly. “Whoops. Welp, guess this partnership is terminated. Nice knowing you, I’m going to go kill myself now.”

The boisterous laugh finally escaped your lips, all thoughts of Peter leaving your conscious. Spiderman made a gun with his hand, held it to the side of his head and jerked his thumb back as if pulling a trigger. “Now that my sidekick knows I’m an idiot, might as well drop being Spiderman, right?”

“Sidekick?” you managed to scoff between giggles. “Please. I’m the dominant one in this relationship.”

“Kinky.”

The tips of your ears suddenly felt hot. “S-shut up!”

Spidey laughed when you shoved his shoulder, rolling your eyes under your mask. “That’s not what I meant, dammit! I’m like the biggest virgin you’ll ever- Stop laughing!”

He kept doing so but somehow, you felt lighter than you’d been a few minutes ago. Free. Like a kid. Which was odd, because this was a nightly patrol and Kim was right below- “We need to get down there.”

The lighthearted aura was sucked from the air. “Huh?”

“I’m supposed to be down there! I was going to sneak in and- and now we’re talking about bullshit when we could be doing something!”

“Oh-kay crazy,” he dismissed you with a wave of his hand. “I called the police, they’ll be here in less than an hour. All we have to do is make sure they don’t leave the premises.”

You frowned inside your mask, thankful that it didn’t change to show facial expressions like his did. How could this superhero, especially one who was known to deviate from law enforcement, sit here and wait for people to do work for him? People who were defenseless unless they were armed with a weapon, no less. You impatiently tapped a gloved hand on your thigh, ears perking up to the muffled arguing that traveled up a nearby air vent.

“Go patrol the city,” Spidey suggested, tapping commands into the sensors on his wrist. “Better that than sitting here and doing nothing. I’ll call you if I need backu-”

“No way,” you said sternly. “I’m gonna kick their asses myself if they try to escape. Not leaving.”

“Don’t- you shouldn’t hurt them, they’re just doing their job,” he said finally, after at least five minutes of thick silence.

“They’re dangerous-”

“So are you,” he fired back. You drew away, fingers tightening around the ledge in surprise. He must have noticed the outburst was uncalled for because he released a shaky sigh. “So am I. We’re dangerous, you know that- right? Only difference between us and them is that we aren’t desperate enough to go into that line of work.”

You bristled at that. “That’s a damn big difference.”

“Not a hard line to cross, though,” Spidey noted, ceasing his tapping of instructions. “People do shit when they’re desperate. For money, for safety, for family…” he looked away from the skyline horizon and turned to you. “I’d do a lot for my family, more than I’d ever tell you about.”

“Well,” you said frankly. “That hurts a bit. Thanks, man.”

“You’ve been getting more...reckless,” he said, “The whole fiasco with the United Nations-”

“I told you that wasn’t me!”

Peter said the same thing, about the United Nations. About the little epic failure you achieved in one night. He was wrong, though; you were framed, it was synthetic smoke. Who was trying to make you Public Enemy #1? You didn’t know and it was killing you. Maybe I should tell Peter about this superhero gig. He could help me deal with it, I guess, you considered the notion. That’d be a huge chip off my shoulder. Too bad I was a complete dumbass and ruined the friendship with one stupid fucking offhand comment-

“Okay, say it wasn’t,” Spidey said patiently, drawing you out of the stream of furious thoughts. “But you stole from that jewelry store a while back.”

“I stopped a potential robbery!” you said defiantly. “He was an idiot for trying to steal at Fifth Avenue- who the hell does that? A-and I only took one little diamond-”

“‘One little diamond’?!”

“Whaaat?” you whined, looking down at your dangling legs guiltily.

“What would your parents think?” Spidey asked, probably expecting you to open up more. Probably raising an eyebrow under his stupid mask. Good luck with that, bud.

“Okay, okay,” you immediately dropped the playful tone. “I get it, that was bad. Let’s move on please.”

“No, c’mon,” he pressed. “Everyone thinks about their family when they do bad shit.”

Your lips were pursed in a thin line and you felt your head tilt in a small nod. He would get no other answer right away, but he sure did try. “Do you...not have a family?”

No response. “Shit, I’m sorry. I assumed-”

“I have a family,” you forced out, and it sounded so disgusting to say that you prayed you’d never have to say it again. Spiderman did this thing where he leaned forward and turned his upper body towards you, cocking his head down and waiting for a continuation. You huffed.

“It’s a complicated situation, webhead,” you lifted one leg onto the roof and pulled your knee to your chest, letting the other one dangle. “S’not a big family anyway, so at least it’s not completely out of hand.”

“Dead relative?”

You shook your head. “Single mom.”

“Oh,” his hand patted your shoulder, a surprisingly welcomed gesture. “My best friend’s got a single mom. They’re not very close, though.”

“Good for them,” you said flatly.

Spiderman shifted awkwardly. “So maybe don’t...steal jewelry? For your mom’s sake?”

He looked at you for a reaction, even a tiny nod, and got none. “You really hate talking about her, don’t you?”

“It’s not- ugh, I dunno,” you hung your head lower. “If I talk about my mum for another second I’d probably start on a whole rant ‘bout how she utterly failed as a parent and, despite technically being there my entire childhood, is constantly ignoring her responsibilities-”

You opened your mouth to continue but choked on the words, realizing that the conversation was 90% you oversharing. “Anyway she’s an okay mum or whatever. Hasn’t done anything that bad. Very average.”

How else were you to phrase it to someone you met so recently? “Very average” was giving her way too much credit but it wasn’t abuse...anymore. In the past two years she’d gone from hitting you for being a disappointment to not caring at all. She didn’t yell every week, she didn’t slap you upside the head or box your ears. She tried to do Mother/Daughter nights but they always ended with her screaming about kicking you out while you wiped away tears. Frankly it wasn’t “caring” as much as it was random fits of rage but- it wasn’t physical anymore. You didn’t have hand shaped bruises anymore, nor split lips. You still had to be careful around your mum ‘cause hell, who knew if she was having a bad day. Who knew what she’d do if she had a bad day. But despite the bad days...she was still your mum. She always apologized after a week or so, told you she hadn’t meant it.

Spiderman was nodded slowly. “You’ve...got a lot to say about your mom.”

“Trust me, that barely covered my opinion of her,” you grumbled. “But what the hell, right? Not like I know you,” your hands felt clammy and hot from frustration.

“Don’t look,” you warned him briskly.

“What?”

“I need some air, don’t look at me.” Your fingers grasped the bottom of your mask and began to tug up. Chilly night air tingled pleasantly wherever it touched, almost making you sigh out loud.

Spidey’s neck must have snapped with how quickly he looked away. “Are you crazy?! Why are you taking the mask o-”

“Relax, I’m just lifting it a little,” you bunched the mask up on the bridge of your nose, inhaling deeply for the cold, dry New York air. It rattled in your lungs yet you took another calming breath, glancing at Spiderman.

He was covering his eyes.

“You don’t have to-” your quiet laugh got his attention. “Don’t cover your eyes, dude. Jus’ don’t look at my face.”

“Uh, yeah,” he hesitantly took the hand from his face. “Gotta be cautious thought.”

“S’ just my mouth, Spiderboy,” you grinned at his awkward nature. “What- can’t handle seeing a girl’s lips?”

“Yes I have!”

You giggled at his voice crack. “Pretty sure you’ve a bigger virgin than I am.”

“I am not!”

“Oh yeah?” you quirked an eyebrow, knowing he couldn’t see it. “I’m making my ‘I-don’t-believe-you’ face, by the way. Seriously starting to doubt that you’re my age ‘cause…you act like a twelve year old. No offense.”

“I’m sixteen!” he defended and honestly, seeing him angrily wave his arms around without facing you was hilarious. And the suit sounded like it was frantically trying to adjust the voice modifier to his high pitched rambling. “I swear I’m sixteen, it’s fucking puberty-”

You put a hand up to silence him, smiling maniacally before pulling your mask over your chin again. “I kid, I kid. Mask is back down.”

If this were a cartoon there would have been steam shooting from his ears. Not like, angry steam. Flustered steam. Or maybe both. Either way, it was funny.

“I hate you,” he groused. “And my voice had to crack! God, that’s worse than when we met!”

A fresh bout of laughter erupted from thinking of that memory alone. Your cackles, once again muffled by the shitty mask, had to be stifled by biting down on the inside of your cheek.

“Pfft, ha! Oh-” you gagged on the words. “Oh that was fucking amazing! D’you- d’you remember when the kid was running-”

“Please no.”

“And you tried to grab him-”

“No, no you said you wouldn’t bring that up!”

“And he threw the bag of quarters at your dick! Ha!”

Spiderman groaned in agony. “Take the mask off so I can deck you.”

“Come at me scrub, I’m- shit,” your metal wristlet beeped, flashing the word “Urgent” in neon blue block letters. “Ah, damn. There’s a robbery near my place, gotta check that out,” owners of a small Korean place near Delmar’s are being threatened at gunpoint. You’d been there with Peter and Ned few times, and that made thought you somber again. “That’ll be a few minutes to get to.”

“You’ve gotta stop bugging the cameras,” Spidey said disapprovingly.

“Well some of us don’t have fancy Super-Conducting 4.2 Tera whatever to help us,” you answered snidely, projecting a small image of the restaurant's security camera view. “Fuck, you’ve got patrol too. Who’s gonna guard this shit?”

“I can stay here,” Spidey offered quickly. He’s not asking to swing me there? That’s...weird. Last time I checked he was the biggest Mom Friend I’ve ever met.

You paused at the ledge of the warehouse, eyes moving from the him to Queens in the distance and back again. “Are you sure?”

“Go!” he urged, shooing you away. “I can handle one night without a partner. S’ your chance to prove that you’re not evil.” You scoffed, wheeled around and raised your middle finger, falling backwards off the ledge with your arms spread like wings. Your body dissolving into a column of smoke seconds before hitting the ground. Spiderman didn’t call for backup that night and the ordeal was stopped with a few “magic tricks” of yours. The robber was easy to take down as he was stupid high and though you disappeared before they could say anything, you saw the restaurant owners talking to a local reporter with relieved expressions. You doubted the old couple would say anything bad, but being tentative never hurt anyone. Hopefully Spidey’s call sent a few officers to the warehouse.

Funny thing was: you hadn’t seen any police cars heading to the warehouse as you flew Queens. Not a single one.

A/N: idk why i got carried away with this. like on one hand...character background. on the other...character background that will cause some depressing shit vv soon

Tags: @everythingthatisrandom, @mcheung0314,@spiderdudeparker, @lou-la-lou, @4-a-m, @miss-glitch, @runs-with-sciss0rs, @lubrielx, @kaitlynthehuman, @b-lyn-k, @hotsocke, @therealwatermelon, @shipping-the-unsinkable-ship, @vivideley, @rosieredcheeks

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