#let’s just say for now she’s uncle Ben or something and hope that satiated your curiosity

[spideypawz]

Roxypool. satisfying my need for crossovers one day at a time.

[wrinkledparchment]

[ first, or last? ]

Summary: At age thirteen, you get a sentence of your soulmate’s written on your wrist. Trouble is, it is never specified whether they are their first words to you, or their last. With something mysterious written on your wrist, will you ever discover your soulmate?

Word Count: 3,569

A/N: Sorry for taking a two-day break, I just needed to relax for a little bit!! I didn’t think that this was going to be this long but YIKE, it was and I don’t think it’s my best work ever but I want to keep you guys satiated!!

Taglist: @obsiidio 

when you were thirteen, words would suddenly appear on your wrist, showcasing your soulmate’s words, something that at some point in your life, would spill from their mouth. 

it was only one sentence, sometimes fragmented, and it wasn’t always clear. there was no context, no indicator for when it would happen. there was something worse, though; you didn’t know if they were your soulmate’s first words to you, or their last. you’d supposedly have to figure it out. 

ambiguously, scrawled in typewriter ink, was ‘you know that.’ something so strange, out of place, and you’d wished it was inherently obvious whether they were first words or last. 

you’d hated soulmates for a whole year now. being only seventeen years old, you’d had their words written on your wrist for four years. and for the first three, you’d tracked every time someone had said anything close to what was on your wrist.

nobody had ever said that to you as their first words, and everyone who had said that to you had spoken to you again afterward. but for those first three years, spent almost in their entirety searching for someone you wouldn’t find, you hadn’t seen the look on your neighbor’s face when she got her words.

you remember going over to celebrate her thirteenth birthday when you were sixteen. she’d sat there in her fluffy chair in the corner of her room, admiring the writing on your wrist. 

“i like the font,” she’d muttered under her breath. “it looks like it came from an old newspapers, like it was written with an old typewriter. it fits your personality.”

and suddenly, at the exact time she’d been born--12:30 in the afternoon--a searing pain struck at her wrist as if she’d been getting tattooed. you remembered it hurting so much you’d had to screw your eyes shut. 

you regretted not keeping them open so you could watch as they were written by an unknown force, inscribed with delicacy unto your wrist. everyone had told you it was a breathtaking sight, that sometimes it glowed. 

so as she shed a tear looking at her soulmark, you’d assumed it was the pain, but she soon let out a blood-curdling scream. getting up quickly from your position on her bed, you’d pulled her wrist away from her view and looked at the words written. 

she buried her head in your shoulder, muttering something incoherent as you rubbed gently at her neck. having a soulmate was supposed to be a happy experience, something sacred and divine, so without a clue, you sat there in silence.  

you allowed her to pull away, and when you looked her in the eyes, your heart nearly broke in two. there was a heaviness in her eyes, something unexplainably depressing about the soulmark that had obviously left her devastated.

as she let another tear slip, she opened her mouth. “those were the last words my old friend ever said to me.” sitting there in silence, you weren’t sure what to say. you didn’t have to ask who she was talking about, because you knew. 

she’d died last year in a car crash going home after hanging out with your neighbor, and she’d never even gotten to know. never gotten to know that her friend was her soulmate. with the words ‘see you tomorrow.’ inked onto her skin, she sobbed, and you were forced to listen. 

ever since then, you had hated soulmates and brushed them off. but now, as you stood watching this fire-y elemental battle it out with mysterio and a knock-off spider-man, as ned had called it, you wished that you didn’t resent them. 

you wished you had still entered in your ‘you know that journal’, as you’d dubbed it. you’d write down every time someone said that to you, the date, and their name. you’d have known if you’d met your soulmate before this. 

you wished that you’d at least known your soulmate prior, because you did not think you’d come out of this alive. 

some people never met them. some people didn’t get an opportunity to even have a hint. sometimes things ended prematurely, and sometimes you didn’t get a say. you knew that. you just always thought it would happen to someone else. 

trapped on a ferris wheel, you told yourself to breathe. and so, sitting in a scorching metal cart, you held back tears and tried not to look at the fiery beast that was only a few hundred feet away from you. 

hearing screams from other people trapped on the ferris wheel, you thought about your best friend, peter parker. where the hell was he? would you die without ever saying goodbye to him, since the last time you saw him was at the opera house, and he’d just said something about not feeling well to you before leaving?

peter had always refused to reference his soulmark, and soulmate by association. he’d always thought the worst about that kind of stuff, and he could comfort you about your soulmate. he’d just never talk about his own. 

only once ever seeing what it said, you’d understood why. it was very obvious that they were last words, or at least that’s what you’d immediately presumed. it was written in a similar font to yours, a typewriter ink as well, though it looked a lot older. 

however, what had stung you was the fact that it had said ‘don’t leave me, please peter.’ which meant that whatever and whenever it was, peter was the one who would die. 

so as you sat back, thinking of your best friend in a moment of crisis in an attempt to die with a smile on your face, your mind wandered. until there was fire right behind your head, flames swirling around your cart and no mysterio, no hero to save you now, in sight. 

most would scream. most would sob and beg for help. but you sat in utter silence, your friends, parents, your favorite memories and songs in your head. it was content for a few moments, even in near-death, while your only option was to think. 

use your head, you thought to yourself, and you finally snapped out of it. you couldn’t really escape on your own, but nobody knew you were there, being close to the bottom and not easy to see. 

flames licked your face, and smoke inhalation began to take over your brain. you felt light-headed, you felt the walls closing in, but you thought of your soulmate. 

you still didn’t know who they were. so deciding that you wouldn’t go down without a fight before meeting them, you took the book that was in your hands, put it just enough over the edge of your burning-hot cart that it would catch fire, and tossed. 

it went straight up in the air like a firework, and you frowned because that was a second-edition copy of a very old book. it was the book or your life, and almost any other moment you would’ve sacrificed your life for the sake of knowledge and preserving it, but this time, you didn’t. 

it must have been the drinks they’d served at the festival of lights only a few minutes ago. you wished that maybe you’d have tugged peter out of his room and forced him on the ferris wheel with you. he’d have known what to do. 

but tonight, you were going to die. you were trapped without anyone or anything in a sizzling hot car made of metal with a fire monster right outside. your heartbeat was out of your chest, your throat was closing and your head was spinning. 

smoke inhalation was about to get the best of you. coughing desperately, putting your hand over your mouth and using your sleeve to filter the air, you hoped. 

you hoped that your soulmate knew, regardless of most likely never having met them, that you loved them. and that though you disliked soulmates, you didn’t dislike them. they were meant for you. 

just as your eyes started to close, you heard a familiar voice call out to you, and you fought to turn towards it. “[name]! i’m coming!”

all you could think in your barely conscious state was peter is coming, and without knowing anything about where he was, or how he would get to you, you trusted him. through the flames, something in all-black jumped on to your cart and held out their hand. 

wishing that you had the strength you had only two minutes ago, you look at it, unable to understand what this stranger wanted you to do. “please,” you heard in a desperate voice, one that sounded like him, and so you immediately grabbed on. 

you wrapped your arms around their neck, but before they could get you safely to the ground, set you down and tell you to run away, your asphyxiation caught up to you, and you fainted in their arms. 

he felt your heartbeat slow down, and he wondered if that was good or bad, but when he went to set you down and all your dead-weight fell to the ground, he panicked. 

did he just lose his best friend because he wasn’t quick enough?

putting you far enough away, he took one last glance at your unconscious form before turning back to the battle, hoping that he hadn’t just lost yet another person due to his own inability to save his loved ones. 

uncle ben, tony, and now you? 

--

waking up in peter’s room after the attack was startling. it was obvious you weren’t in your own, and your lungs still ached and felt clogged. you were still in the same clothes with one of his blankets draped over you, as he was curled up in a ball on the floor next to you. 

“peter?” you whispered, wondering why you were here instead of--i don’t know-- a hospital? his eyes slowly fluttered open, a truly wondrous sight you’d enjoyed sleepover mornings. you wished that your shadow didn’t cast over him and that you weren’t hanging a foot and a half above him, but still. 

“hey [name], are you feeling okay? i found you on a park bench after the attack, so ned and i brought you with us. the guy in the black saved you, i saw it on the news.”

“yeah, i’m feeling okay. my lungs feel like they’re imploding right now, though. i passed out from smoke inhalation, if it weren’t for the knock-off spider-dude, i’d probably be dead right now.”

your exasperated breaths flashed through peter’s mind, his fears that struck in the deepest part of his heart during the battle reigniting. when he’d seen a flying book that was caught on fire launch into the air, he knew someone was there. 

but when he’d looked through the flames to see you, ashes on your face which had been glowing, lit by the fire, with a distraught look on your face and your hand covering your mouth, he’d flipped. 

because in that moment, with that elemental, it was personal. it was real, and his best friend, hopefully something more, was in danger. he had no help, and neither did you, and you looked like you had one foot in the grave. 

seeing the raw look on his face, fragments of worry etched into every wrinkle on his face, you regretted saying that. even if it was the truth. because it obviously hurt him to think of a life without you. 

what you didn’t know that it was also because he had your life in his hands, and if you hadn’t made it, he’d have been at fault.he was one failure away from losing you entirely. he knew that. 

“i wish i had been there,” he muttered, clenching his jaw. “i wish you could’ve avoided being in that mess entirely, and the only reason you were there was because i was gone.”

“it’s fine, peter. it’s not your fault. you know that,” you countered, almost not even saying the last sentence but you did anyway. 

“i could’ve lost you last night,” he said sadly.

“you won’t lose me,” you replied almost instantly, a look of determination, and comfort, and hope flashing across your face, before turning into something comforting. 

“don’t make promises that you can’t keep, [name].”

--

after dinner, you headed back to your shared room with mj. you allowed yourself to sit on the bed, and let out a large breath, as mj looked back at you with a tight-lipped smile. 

“where was peter during the attack last night, [name]?” she spoke suddenly, with curiosity, as if she already knew the answer. 

“i didn’t see him, but he brought me back here after it. he said he was out with ned, i think,” you answered honestly. she nodded her head, digesting the information before there was a knock on her door.  

“i’m going out,” she suddenly muttered underneath her breath, scrambling to put on nice clothes and brush her teeth, and without saying another word, she walked out. odd. 

sitting in silence, you thought about peter. his smile, his sorrow-filled eyes, and his words. don’t make promises that you can’t keep. 

you sat, looking at your soulmark, and going through everything anyone ever said to you. no first words, no last words, you hadn’t found and then lost your soulmate. you must’ve not known them yet. 

it’s either that, or it’s someone you’re about to lose. don’t make promises...

you thought back to the words he had written on his wrist, feeling pity grow in your stomach. ‘don’t leave me, please peter.’ and you wondered when he would leave that person. and you wondered who got so lucky to have peter parker as their soulmate. 

--

you hadn’t seen him for a whole two days, and you started to get worried. you wondered where he was if he wasn’t on a school trip, the chaperones making some bullshit excuse that he was with family in berlin. 

so, sitting and waiting on the bus with a different driver this time, you allowed yourself to sit and look out the window, seeing the skies suddenly brew into a darker color. 

london was known for nasty, rainy weather but not like that, and suddenly, it was very obvious that this wasn’t a storm. another monster, this time looking like a storm itself, began attacking civilians as it rose up from the river. 

“it’s not real, it’s not real,” ned began to mutter to himself, and you watched as flash rebutted before pointing his phone at the storm, following them off the bus. 

you began to look as traffic jammed up on the river, and though most people in this situation would run and quickly, you looked to see a distressed mother on the tower bridge, holding a small six-year-old’s hand and a baby with her other arm. 

they were innocent children, a mother and two kids, and they looked terrified. you should have ran, you could’ve . . . but you didn’t. 

quickly waving to the trio, you ran over as quickly as you could. “i’ll get you guys out of here, come on.” suddenly, part of the monster disappeared and it was an army of drones, but you continued to try and get them to safety. 

you took the six-year-old’s hand yourself, and directed the mother off the bridge while clearing the path of debris and watching carefully for cars that might explode, like in the movies. 

finally getting them escorted away, she told you quickly that her baby was a twin, and there was still another child in the car. wondering why she didn’t tell you that sooner, you began to run back. 

within a moment, when you arrived at the car and began to grab the baby from the seat, you spotted a drone in the corner of your eye, aiming at you. 

you wondered why you were a target, but all that was running through your mind was getting the child to safety. so you took the baby and booked it, all the while the drone was shooting at your feet. 

quickly giving the woman the baby and telling them to hurry away from you as fast as possible, you ran back towards the bridge, where there were the least amount of people. you spotted a blur of red and black swinging up into the bridge, and you smiled to yourself. 

you heard his shouts, and you knew it was him. looking at him and paying no attention at all to the drone that was on you, all you hear is a ‘watch out!’ from a man at the edge of the bridge. 

you didn’t move, and suddenly you heard shots being fired. before you could register what had happened, it suddenly shut down, floating back down to the ground. you let yourself fall to your knees. 

your hand reached to touch several open wounds on your stomach, pulling away with a stark crimson on your calloused, bleeding hand. it dripped down, warmth flowing with it, and you let your eyelids droop. 

it felt eerily similar to your situation at the ferris wheel, but this time, you couldn’t see surviving as an option. there, you weren’t actually injured. here, you had a hole in your abdomen. 

you fell onto your back with a thud, and there was too much pain everywhere to register the head-trauma that would cause. you spread your legs out, laying flatly, and let out a large breath. 

this is the end, you thought, and thinking back to your soulmark, you wondered how and who was going to discover you. the universe must have planned this, right?

hearing another thud, similar to yours, you wondered if that was them. so you turned your head to your left, seeing spider-man standing there in a new suit. 

you were losing a lot of blood, and so in your delusional state of mind, you greeted spider-man by asking, “peter?”

his white glass eyes widened, letting out an exasperated “you knew?”

“i recognize your voice,” you mused, smiling at him even in the pain you were in. he walked over to you, going to lift off his mask before KAREN called out to him. 

“she’s losing a lot of blood and has 6 open wounds on her abdomen. it is estimated that she will not survive, even if transferred to a hospital.” peter let out a strangled noise, and decided he had to make it count. 

“so, this is it, huh?” you joked, grinning at him as he squatted down to your level, ripping off his mask. he shook his head sideways, indicating ‘no’, as his eyes began to fill with tears. 

he wondered how you weren’t crying. you were always so headstrong, so divinely brave that it scared him sometimes. “how?” he asked, carefully. 

“there was a family i needed to save. it looked like the drone was going to kill them. i escorted them to safety but had to come back because there was another child, and i saved them too, but there was a price.”

drone. it was quentin, he had targeted you, and peter growled. for the first time you’d seen, despite being his best friend, a fire burned behind his eyes like no other. 

“peter, if these are my last moments, i don’t want it to be seeing you angry.”

he nodded, and smiled down at you, pressing his hand against as many of your wounds as he could cover. he could feel the blood draining, and he wondered, still, how you looked so happy. 

“i’m going to miss you, a lot,” he stated honestly, looking up to your eyes. something clicked, like there was something more he had been missing this entire time. 

you knew that statement meant more. “i’m going to miss you, too.”

“i’ll miss you more,” he countered, a smile spreading upon his face, and despite it being full of despair, it looked good on him. it always did. 

“i’ll miss you most,” you beamed, and he let out a small snort at your cheesy confession. he gave your hand a big squeeze, and you could feel your energy draining. 

the pain began to take over, so with watery eyes and a large smile, you squeezed his hand back. your body slowly began to float away, but he was still looking at you like his life depended on it. 

tears were running down his face, and for a minute, all that was heard was his sniffles as your blood slowly drained and your eyes drooped more and more, slowly fading . . . 

someone from across the bridge, behind him, called his name out, but you could barely hear it, and he turned to them to shout something back, his body moving too far away for comfort. 

without thinking, a divine intervention flowed through you like the universe depended upon it. you clutched his bicep to pull your head up just a little bit, and the words bounced off your lips without thought. 

“don’t leave me, please peter.”

and that’s all you had to say, because he turned back to you without completing his sentence, and let out a broken sob before sniffling again. his throat felt like it was swelling, and as he sat there, words flowed through him like they were meant to from the very beginning. 

“i would never leave you, [name]. you know that.”