“Something calls to me/The trees are drawing me near/I’ve got to find out why…” (”Tuesday Afternoon” by the Moody Blues) I was one of many people who were “called” to Roosevelt Island on a Saturday afternoon. The Cherry Blossom Festival was the reason why:) (Photo taken on April 29, 2017)
Queensboro Bridge / 59th Street Bridge / Ed Koch Queensboro Bridge New York City, New York (USA) Bridge over the East River Designer: Henry Hornbostel / Gustav Lindenthal / Leffert L. Buck Type: cantilever bridge, truss bridge.
summary: daveed and reader were high school sweethearts who had a bad breakup, fate (and a well-timed cello concert) brought them together in NYC. they had a lot of catching up to do.
warnings: swearing, mentions of car wrecks and death, smut at the end because i’m still me after all.
word count: 6,459
a/n: ayyy it’s day five of the @hamwriters write-a-thon which is reverse POV day. this is a continuation of my lit day fic, linked at the top of this post, and i can’t tell u how to live ur life but it really would make more sense if you read that first. love u!!!!!!!! hope it was worth the wait!!!!!!!!!!!!
“Daveed,” you breathe. “Hi- I, um…I hadn’t really figured you’d come backstage.”
Daveed shifts uncomfortably, looking around the room.
“Yeah, well…I almost didn’t,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck.
hey, could you do a peter parker imagine? Reader and him are BFFs and one day he tells her he’s spiderman and she falls even more in love with him but he doesn’t know and she doesn’t want to tell him bc she feels insecure about her body(short&chubby) and every time he comes to her in the morning so she can patch him up she gets more insecure bc he’s doing so much for everyone and she does nothing and she starts crying and he tells her she’s beautiful and then all fluff? thx & I love your writing😍
He stood on your fire escape with the mask in his hand and a broad, nervous smile on his face. Your cheeks hurt and you can barely see because of how wide you’re smiling. Eyes crinkled at the edges, you launch yourself through your window into his arms. “How freaking dare you not tell me this earlier!” you accuse, jokingly. He laughs and wraps his arms around your waist. “I’m sorry it took this long. I just didn’t want to endanger you. But! I may have just joined the Avengers and I really wanted to tell you because I know you love them!” You squeal and he laughs even more.
Yeah, I do love them, you think, and you joining makes me love you even more.
The next day was uneventful. At school, you and Peter had a pop quiz in Chemistry and then another in English. In Chem, you feel like you didn’t do some of the equations right but you told Peter you felt confident anyway. Now that you know he’s Spiderman, you wonder how he keeps up to date on homework and projects. He’s still the top of the class even when he’s fighting crime on the side. You barely did anything yet you were only an average student. You tried to brush your insecurities away. You didn’t do your English homework to read the chapters last night so you were stumped when looking at the quiz. Pete leaned his paper towards you when he was finished. Somehow, that made you feel worse.
Peter tries to walk you home after school but gets distracted halfway through by the police cars rushing towards the Queensboro bridge. He excuses himself apologetically and rushes into an alleyway to get changed into his Spider-suit before swinging off to save the day. You grab Peter’s bag from the alley and make your way home. When you sit at your desk to start your homework, you try your hardest not to procrastinate like usual. You give up after half an hour to watch Supernatural.
A tapping on your window at three am wakes you from your snoozing state. You had finished your homework by ten and decided not to study before watching some Buzzfeed videos. You kneel at the window and raise it to see a frantic Peter. “Hey! (Y/N)! Have you seen my backpack? I can’t find it and I checked, like, all the alleyways by that cafe I placed it by.”
“Instead of worrying about your backpack, Peter, you might want to worry about that giant gash on your cheek!” You usher him through your window to sit on the bed so you can tend to his cut. “It’s fine, (Y/N), I just need …”
“I have your bag, Peter. Stay still,” you demand. You kneel down next to the bed and gently dab his cheekbone with rubbing alcohol and he flinches. “Why do you care so much about doing your homework when you’re doing so much more for the community? Queens owes you so much, yet you fret over getting a B+ on a Calculus test,” you question.
“They don’t owe me anything, (Y/N/N). Queens needs help and Spiderman helps them. I, however, am just a high school student. Queens doesn’t owe Peter Parker anything, though you could argue that the city owes Spiderman, but that’s your opinion.” He tells you.
“ I just don’t understand how you can be so perfect,” you whisper, hoping he won’t hear it. He places a finger underneath your chin and lifts it so you look into his eyes. “I’m far from perfect. You, however, I don’t know. You seem pretty perfect to me,” he says with a boyish grin. Tears rush to your eyes and you blink them away, a few strays running down your cheeks. “I do nothing, Peter. I’m chubby and an average student. I barely do community service, and I stay in bed all day. I’m nothing like perfect,” you tell him unhappily.
“I guess we have different visions of perfect, (Y/N/N). You’re perfect to me,” he says in a confident whisper.