Y/N 🍪

_

SPIDER-MAN ALMOST FELL OVER.

I didn't want to look him in the eyes, particularly because it took a lot of guts to admit something I wasn't even sure was true, and also because he was a spider. I wanted to vomit thinking about what could be under his mask—not out of offense to him, but because I can't get the thought of beady eyes and fangs out of my head.

Glancing wearily around the park, I tried to calm my breathing.

"I'm sorry," Spider-Man said, "what?"

I sighed. "I'm pretty sure you're my soulmate."

"Pretty sure?"

"Okay, almost sure," I frowned, waving my hand as I spoke, "I know it sounds crazy, but I have a perfect explanation."

Well, not perfect, but reasonable. Luka would be throwing a fit if he knew who I was talking to, but I wasn't feeling less than flattered to be in his presence. I didn't even feel like he was my soulmate. I'd read about myths and articles about feeling a strange sense of happiness or calm when you met them, but I just felt....

Anxiety.

I want to go home, honestly.

But I was supposed to be with him—it was riddled in fate, and marked in time—and I had no other option. People in this world don't marry other people when they haven't met their soulmate. It's pretty much against the rules of society. If I didn't end up with this Spider-Creature-Man-Thing then I'd practically be alone for the rest of my life.

And honestly, that didn't sound too bad.

But I knew I'd regret not trying.

"Two days ago, I turned seventeen," I explained, avoiding eye contact with him, "but I didn't have a red string. I had spider-webs."

He was silent for a moment. "So did I."

Go for it, [y/n], I thought to myself, make a move. You don't want to be alone, and you don't want to let this chance go, so just say something. Anything. Pretend there's someone underneath the mask that you find easy to talk to.

Now was not the greatest time to have no friends.

Um, Bucky Barnes? No, I don't know him. Um, jeez, who? Someone who doesn't seem like the type to judge or be a threat. Oh. Yeah, that could work in some strange way.

Just pretend he's Peter.

"Crazy, right?" I laughed softly, "I never thought something like this would happen."

Spider-Man was silent. One of the lenses of his eyes seemed to twitch, but then looked up to the darkening sky of Brooklyn and shook his head. He was thinking about something, I could tell. I didn't need to be his 'soulmate' to know that.

"I'll take you home," he said instead, holding out his hand, "it's getting late."

I didn't take his hand.

He wiggled his fingers, waiting.

I still didn't take it.

I didn't want to go near him, mainly because of my arachnophobia, but I was also nervous around strangers. I did want to go home, though, and I couldn't walk this late out alone. But...sigh. Just pretend he's Peter. Pretend he's some awkward dork that doesn't know how to form words sometimes.

So I took his hand (hesitantly).

As soon as I laced my fingers through the latex covering his own, he tugged me closer to him, wrapping his arm around my waist and pressing me closer to his chest. I let out a yelp. He laughed under his breath.

And thwip!

Suddenly I was being hurtled through the air while clinging onto my 'soulmate' for dear life. It was scary at first, feeling the wind pressing so tightly against my skin, and the buildings rushing by like fragments of glass, but then I felt a calm once we landed back on the ground. I was about to question how he knew which part of Brooklyn I lived in, but then I realized it probably had to do with our soulmate ties.

Cool, I guess.

"Thanks," I said, stepping away from him, "that was...interesting."

Spidey laughed. "Yeah, you get used to it after a while."

There was an awkward silence, and I swear the world stopped. I had to ask him—even if it was a blurted out, messy, not thought-through sentence—I had to know if he believed me. That we were soulmates, and that we were supposed to end up together.

But he seemed to have read my mind.

"I'm sorry," he said, taking a step back, "I know what you're going to ask, so I'd rather not lead you on."

I blinked, already dreading it. "Lead me on?"

"Even if we are soulmates, it's too risky."

"What is?"

"If anyone finds out you're my soulmate, you could be in danger," he said, exhaling, "I know we just met, but I can't stand the thought of you getting hurt."

If that was supposed to be reassuring, it wasn't. It felt like rejection in its purest form, slapping me in the face, and telling me that I somehow wasn't good enough—that I wasn't even worth the try.

But who was I to argue with a 'superhero'?

"So what?" I said, trying to hide my frown, "are we just supposed to ignore each other then?"

Spider-Man's eyes blinked. "Yeah."

"Seriously?"

"No—wait, that's not what I meant," he said, holding up his hands, "I just meant we can't like...like each other."

"Wow," I said bluntly.

There was a pause.

He winced. "You seem mad."

"Annoyed," I corrected, shaking my head, "but thanks for the ride, I guess, Spidey."

Turning on my heels, I prepared to walk the short distance back home. I was pissed in the slightest bit, because it seemed like he didn't care. It was easier for him, because it didn't matter if he married someone or not. He was a Hero. I was a civilian. It was socially acceptable for him to be made into an icon, but all that was left for me was a future of 'she couldn't find her soulmate?' and 'shame she's all alone'.

But maybe I dodged a bullet.

I hate spiders, and he seems to be one, so yeah.

"Wait," he called out from behind me.

I stopped hesitantly, turning my head. "What?"

"We can still be friends, right?"

Friends.

Whatever, I guess it wasn't half-bad. It wasn't ideal, but it wasn't terrible. Friends. Not soulmates, just friends. Luka would kill me for it no matter what, but I could always pull up the excuse that he was my 'friend' at the very least—whatever being friends with a hero meant.

"Sure," I said, turning away, "if that's what you want."

I wasn't even sure if I wanted it.

But the world seems against me right now, so whatever.