lea🔭

He blushed, a guilty expression plastered on his face as he awkwardly waved back.

Your hands signaled him to approach you, and he took a breath as he made his way over.

“Hey, was it a good shot?” you asked immediately, a brow raised and an amused smile painting your lips. From the view point of his lens, Peter could make out that you were a pretty girl, but now, in person, he was almost stunned by how beautiful you were. Your eyes peering up at him from your lashes captivated him almost immediately.

“Umm, yea, I’m sorry about that. I should have asked for your permission. I’ll delete it…” he explained rather nervously, hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

“No, it’s ok! I’m flattered actually. Is it ok if I check it out?” you assured him, flashing him a warmer smile.

Bashfully showing you the photo on his camera, you went on to give him your phone number, asking for a copy to have of your own.

“This is Shaggy, by the way. You can pet him if you want. He loves making new friends.”

Peter leaned down to pet Shaggy, smiling at him.

“Hey, nice to meet you, Shaggy. I’m Peter.”

Your smile grew as you watched them both, Shaggy wagging his tail excitedly as Peter had found his favorite spot; right between the ears.

Your eyes then focused on the tall, brunette boy, realizing that not only was he kind, but also extremely cute.

You tried to keep yourself from blushing, clearing your throat

“I’m y/n, by the way,” you said, and his eyes instantly met yours.

Beautiful brown eyes behind squared framed glasses.

Oh gosh, you were a goner.

“Nice to meet you too, y/n.”

He ended up sending you the photo as soon as he transferred the images to his laptop. He insisted that it was because he didn’t want you to wait too long, but he knew it was because he wanted any excuse to continue talking to you.

From then on the conversations continued, growing into talks about each other’s interests and lives (and how Shaggy was indeed named after the Scooby-Doo character, to which Peter laughed and said “oh you just had to name him after the non-dog character to be different, did you?”)

It was safe to say that you both developed little crushes on each other.

The first time Peter Parker asked you out was a couple days later. After texting and calling nonstop since meeting, he finally got the courage to ask.

“Hey, there’s a photo exhibit happening downtown tomorrow. Do you maybe wanna go with me?” he asked.

Laying down on his bed, facing his ceiling, he held his breath as he awaited your answer.

Little did he know, your heart nearly stopped at his question.

Was he asking you out on a date?

You bit your lip to keep yourself from screaming out an overly excited ‘yes’, choosing to go the ‘cool girl’ route.

Calm, effortless. Making sure not to make it a big deal by labeling it said ‘d’ word.

“Um, yea, sure. Sounds fun,” you said, hoping it sounded cool and collected on his end despite being the exact opposite of how you felt.

Peter immediately pumped his fist up, thrilled at your acceptance.

“Ok, cool. I’ll pick you up at 4:00?”

“Sounds like a date,” you said, before slapping a hand over your forehead immediately.

Crap.

You said the ‘d’ word.

Before he could even respond, you took it upon yourself to explain further.

A terrible mistake.

“I mean, like, you know. A friend date. Not like a…not a real date, cause I’m sure that’s not...”

“No, I want it to be,” Peter interrupted immediately, surprising even himself.

He didn’t want you to be confused by his intentions. He liked you, really liked you, and the last thing he wanted was for you to think that he saw you as ‘just a friend’.

If he was being honest, he didn’t think he could ever be ‘just a friend’ to you.

Your eyes widen, face warm as you quickly stuffed your phone under your pillow, letting out an excited squeal that you could no longer hold.

“Y/N?” you heard your mom call out worriedly from outside your door.

“It’s ok, mom! Just…stubbed my toe,” you said, embarrassed she had heard you.

Ok, breathe. Be a cool girl. You’re a cool girl.

You lifted your phone from under your pillow back to your ear.

“Okay, cool. I’m totally down for that. So tomorrow at 4 it is.”

Little did you know, Peter heard you squeal at the other end of the phone, including your ‘stubbed toe’ excuse and he had to stifle his laughter so as to not make you suspicious.

His chest filled with warmth and he was beyond giddy at your reaction. You were actually ecstatic to go out with him. Never did he think he would get that kind of reaction, especially from someone as amazing as you.

God, he was a goner.

“Perfect. See you tomorrow,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

The first time Peter Parker kissed you was that very same night. After the exhibit, you grabbed some slices of Joe’s Pizza (“The absolute best pizza in all of New York,” Peter had stated in a tone that amusingly sounded more like a fact than an opinion) and then headed into a small local ice cream shop for a scoop of..

“Strawberry ice cream,” you both had said in unison when the server had asked what you would like.

You both turned to each other and laughed, beaming smiles plastered to your faces.

The server couldn’t help but smile too.

“You both make a very lovely couple. How long have you two been together?” he asked.

Peter scratched at the back of his head while you looked down, not wanting him to see your, at this point, tomato red cheeks.

You both decided to share 2 scoops of strawberry ice cream, taking it to go as you continued your night time stroll.

“Ah crap, he only gave us one spoon…” he said, turning around to go back inside.

“I’m ok with sharing,” you said quickly, causing him to turn back around.

“I mean, if you are,” you added, eyes avoiding his in the fear of him looking at you strangely.

He looked down at the ice cream cup in has hand for a moment before grabbing the spoon, offering it you.

“One spoon for two it is,” he said with a small smirk.

You took turns before it turned into both of you feeding each other, giggling as it progressed into a tiny food fight.

“Ha, now you have some on your nose,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him.

He laughed, taking the spoon back from you and lightly smeering a bit of melted ice cream on your cheek.

“Now we’re matching,” he said, mimicking you as he stuck his tongue out.

You giggled, finger wiping at your cheek.

“Oh, wait, you missed,” he said, reaching his hand out towards your cheek as his thumb gently wiped at the smear.

Your breath caught in your throat as his skin made contact with yours. Just this small, innocent action was enough to send shockwaves throughout your entire body.

His thumb lingered on your skin, the rest of his fingers joining to caress your cheek. His eyes then landed on your’s and, if you weren’t frozen in place just yet, you definitely were now. You watched in palpable silence, heart beating rapidly, as you awaited his next move.

“You have really beautiful eyes,” he voices softly, face leaning closer to yours.

At this point you could feel his breath on your face and without thinking about, you leaned in closer as well, your faces less than inches apart.

“Is this ok?” He had whispered, mouth grazing your’s as his eyes closed instinctively.

You nodded, wanting nothing more than for him to move just a tiny bit closer.

“More than.”

His lips met yours, soft and warm and kind and perfect, and you practically melted into him.

You half expected an Elvis song to play and end credits to roll. It was that perfect.

The first time Peter Parker said he loved you was coincidentally the first time you found out he was Spider-Man.

You started noticing Peter wasn’t wearing his glasses, but when you had asked he said he got ‘contacts’. You also noticed how he was surprisingly stronger than usual.

It’s not that he was particularly weak before, but you start noticing the change in someone’s capabilities when they slam dunk a basketball and break the hoop.

Like literally smashed the whole thing on the floor.

Although you and Peter didn’t go to the same school, word quickly made it to yours how the the nerdy kid from rival school Midtown High jumped across the court and destroyed a basketball hoop, glass shards everywhere.

“Are you on steroids?” you asked him seriously, causing him to choke on the sandwich he was currently eating.

You both held the tradition of eating at the Starlight Diner every Friday after school. You would wait on the steps of Midtown High for Peter to be dismissed, and make your way to the diner hand in hand, you on his skateboard as he helped guide you to the direction of the restaurant.

“What? No, of course not! I just…I’ve been working out more.”

“Where? In Superman’s gym? ‘Cause you pretty much need super human strength to do what you did, Peter.”

He playful rolled his eyes at you, chuckling under his breath.

“Oh ha-ha, look at you with the quips. Maybe your dad is right, maybe I am a bad influence,” he teased, but you remained straight faced with him.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I can tell when you’re bullshitting me, and you’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

He pauses mid bite, realizing your seriousness, and places his sandwich down on the plate, brow furrowed.

“Whoa. Y/N, what are you…”

“You’re always leaving in the middle of our hangouts, coming up with excuses like ‘Aunt May wants you home early’, when I know that’s not true because I called her the other day, when you left, to apologize for keeping you out so late, and she said she didn’t mind and to tell you, since you were still ‘out with me’, that she needed you to bring home a gallon of milk.”

“Not only that but you’re acting different. You’re more on edge, less rational about things. I mean, humiliating Flash Thompson like that? Sure it sounds funny and he definitely deserves it but that’s not something the Peter Parker I know would do. In fact, you’ve been doing a lot of things you wouldn’t typically do. And I guess I wouldn’t mind if you would just tell me what the heck was going on. You used to tell me everything, Peter. What’s changed?”

It all flowed out of you like a waterfall; weeks of pent up frustration and worry. You didn’t even realize that your eyes were glossy, tears threatening to spill.

But Peter did.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey. Y/n, baby, please, it’s ok.” He leaned forward to reach for your hand on the table but you pulled back, shaking your head.

“No. It’s not ok,” and his heart breaks at the hurt in your tone.

“I don’t even know you anymore,” you state, and a tear finally makes its way down your cheek.

Before he can even lean forward to reach for you again, you stand up and move out of the booth you shared.

“Where are you going?” Peter asks, and there’s a lump in his throat that you can hear in his voice.

“I need some time. Oh wait, no, that’s too honest of an answer, sorry. My mom wants me home early,” you said bitterly, eyes looking straight into his before you turned around and walked straight out of the diner, the bell at the door alerting patrons of your departure.

Peter swallowed, eyes remanning on the spot where you once sat.

He fucked up and he knows it.

He comes up with a plan to make it up to you and later that night he stands on your windowsill, knocking on the glass.

You go to check out the strange tapping noise and almost fall backwards in shock once you draw your curtains and come face to face with Peter.

“Oh my god, Peter! What are you doing here?! Be careful, you’re gonna fall!” you say frantically, ushering him in.

He can’t help but smile lightly at your worry; at least it seemed like you still cared about him.

“Y\n, I’m really sorry about how I’ve been acting lately. You’re right. I’ve been acting weird and lying to you about it and you don’t deserve that. I tell you everything because I trust you more than anyone in the entire world. And if there’s anyone I can trust with this, it’s definitely you.”

You furrowed your brows, unsure of what he was talking about.

“Peter, what are you…”

“Wait, let me show you please,” he practically begs you with his puppy dog brown eyes and you feel obliged to accept.

As weak as it might make you seem, you could never say no to Peter.

You nod, and he smiles at you, grateful.

“Ok, this is gonna sound weird but I need you to hold onto me,” he said, and you automatically raise a brow.

“Is this an excuse to get me to hug you? Because you don’t deserve a hug right now,” you said with a suspicious brow raised and Peter has to keep the laugh bubbling up his throat from coming out.

Sometimes you were too cute for your own good.

“Trust me. This is going to explain everything.”

So you do as he asked, wrapping your arms around his neck, to which he wraps an arm tightly around your waist.

At this moment you almost immediately accept his apology, despite him not explaining much of anything. You were so head over heels for Peter that just him holding you like that was enough to forgive him.

He interrupts your thoughts.

“Hold on tightly ok? And please, whatever you do, don’t look down.”

You frowned, now more confused than ever.

“Don’t look down? Down from wh-“

Before you can even finish your sentence, you’re both suddenly launched out the window, 0 to 60 in half a second.

You scream loudly, high pitched & full of absolute fear. Your hands tightened their grip around Peter’s neck, eyes looking around frantically as you passed by tall trees and giant skyscrapers.

Peter laughs, giving you a soft squeeze as he reassured you of his hold.

“I got you, don’t worry. Just remember what I said about not…”

You let out another hysterical shriek, nails digging into Peter’s skin as you scrambled to get impossibly closer to him, having caught glimpse of the city below you.

Too late.

“...Looking down.” Peter hissed in pain at your nails.

Damn they were sharp.

Finally he landed you both on top of a building and you gasped once your feet touched solid ground.

“You’re good, it’s ok. You survived,” he says, but you don’t let go of your tight grip on him.

Your breathing is still rapid and your eyes are looking wildly around you before landing on Peter’s face in front of you.

“W-what, h-how….” you’re out of breath and you still haven’t recovered from the shock and fear.

“This is what I haven’t been honest with you about, and what I know now I should’ve from the start,” he confesses, hands making its way to your cheeks.

His warm hands on your face immediately help steady your breathing, allowing you to process what had just occurred.

You weren’t simply flying over the city, you were swinging. Peter was swinging you both with some strange substance coming out of his arm. Like a web of sorts.

Your eyes widen in realization.

“You’re Spider-Man,” you state, breathless, and his eyes never lose contact with your’s.

You can see him swallow silently. He was nervous. Whatever happens next was completely in your control.

“I don’t want to lose you, y/n. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me and I’d be stupid if I lost you all because I was scared of telling you the truth. More than just my girlfriend, you’re my best friend, and I….I trust you with my whole life. So I’m trusting you with this secret. I promise I’ll explain everything to you later, but right now I need you to know that I….”

He gently rests his forehead against your’s.

“I love you.”

His words echo in your head and your chest finally stills.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the anger you felt about him lying. Not the fear as he swung you over the city. Not even the fact that he was freakin Spider-Man.

All that mattered was how much you loved Peter and how he felt the same way. It, along with the many overwhelming emotions you felt that day, was enough to cause tears to roll down your cheeks. To which Peter wiped away immediately.

Before he could even apologize, you pull him down to you by his shirt collar, smashing your lips on his.

He’s taken aback at first, but immediately closes his eyes and practically breathes new life into you as he kisses you back eagerly, hands resting on your lower back.

These were the firsts of many memories you and Peter shared. Times where you were the happiest. Times that you’ve both replayed in your head whenever you felt like nothing was going right. Times that you strived to recreate together every moment that you could.

They’d met when he’d been apartment hopping after his college graduation, and Harry said he had a place, (because of course he does, rich bastard) but his friend was staying in it, and they’d need to share.

Peter didn’t mind roommates, but a warning would have been nice when Harry’s friend, who he’d be sharing an apartment with, was just about the most beautiful woman he’d ever set eyes on.

He still remembers how he stumbled over his words when they met, how when she asked his name, he forgot to say his last and barely remembered his first, and the first time he heard her laugh, the sound he keeps chasing ever since.

They got on well, better than he had with anyone he’d ever known. She was easy to like, the kind of lovely it’s easy to lose hours to. She laughed at his jokes, a really, truly honest kind of laughter, head tipped back and his silly little thoughts, watching TV on a hand-me-down couch. He wants to say they were friends, and in a way, she became his best friend.

But they were never friends.

Because he never made it that hidden how he felt about her. She wasn’t the kind of person he knew how to want halfway.

It happened too fast, the way he fell in love with her. It was all it once, a domino crash from the moment she first smiled at him tucking a bit of her hair behind her ear with that warm disposition. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful (but she was, so beautiful that it was distracting, even if she wasn’t present), but more her kindness, a warmth that followed her every step. She made him coffee, even on the early mornings she didn’t have to be up, and watched TV with him, even if she’s seen every episode before.

She had to have known how he felt. Because he remembers it, the way they would sit together on that damn couch, the way she wouldn’t even hide it. She’d curl into his side and he’d have his arm around her, and Peter would think over, and over that if he would just ask, he could be her person.

He’d be able to kiss her.

It was all so stupid, because he thought he’d seen the look in her eye, thought she also felt it, the way they fit together.

He can’t keep thinking about this,

Her boyfriend’s an asshole. Peter would think that even if the only thing he wanted in this godforsaken world was the guys’ girlfriend. He’s watched it, how Brad (the guy’s fucking name is Brad) is always late for dates, cancels last minute, and never looks at her. Never tells her she’s beautiful. Never holds her hand when they’re out. She thinks no one sees, but Peter does. He sees how she’ll reach her pretty fingers out to be held, only to be told it’s not the time.

She doesn’t complain, of course.

It’s when he’s stewing over this, the ugly jealousy brewing in his chest like an unabating ache, when she walks in his direction. It’s a rooftop party, and he was in the quiet section, looking over the city.

She’s a welcome presence.

“Hey stranger,” her voice is a low drawl, and she looks at him with a kind smile. She’s got such a pretty voice, and he’d give anything to get back to those nights where he was laying in her lap, her fingers combing through his hair. Her lips are painted a deep red, and he has a hard time remembering that she’s not his girl.

She’s his the what-if that won’t stop haunting him.

“You look beautiful,” Peter says, instead of a greeting. It’s only half-conscious, and the satisfaction of seeing her preen, watching the flattery bloom into that beautiful smile, is worth every bit of social faux pas.

“Thank you,” she replies, a half giggle, “You clean up nice.”

He spent an hour picking his suit jacket because she’d see it.

“Not as well as you, sweetheart.”

He’s not supposed to be saying that to a taken woman, but the selfish part of him wants her to be taken by him. Besides, when they were supposed ‘friends’, he’d call her that all the time.

She scoffs, and then props herself on the railing.

“Careful with that, smooth talker.”

“What, Brad getting protective now?”

Her face falls and his heart drops to his shoes. He hates the guy, but Peter- he’s weak for her happiness, would sacrifice his own a million times for it.

He doesn’t know if he’s pushed it lately, standing too close to her at bars, when Harry and him go out with her and Brad, or when he still grabs her hand to pull her somewhere. She’s always reacted positively to him.

“Why do you do that?”

She sounds heartbroken.

And he can’t- he can’t have hurt her. It’s the last thing he ever wants to do, the thing he tries to avoid more than anything.

“Honey,” and there it is again, him talking to her like he’s got a right to use endearments, “Do what?”

She looks down, wordless, with a bitter smile, and horrible taste hits the back of his throat.

“I think me and Brad broke up.”

The world stops spinning for a moment. The globe falls off its’ axis.

“You could pretend to be upset.” she says, “He had a lot of good traits!”

She’s smiling, and so he doesn’t feel like he needs to not laugh. And he wants to laugh, feels light as air, like the idea of hope is no longer frivolous, but overwhelmingly present.

“He’s got fuckin’ impeccable timing, I’ll give you that.”

She quirks her head, and it’s so fucking cute, and he’s drunk on the knowledge of possibility. She smells like rose perfume, the one he bought her for her birthday, and he wonders if she called him hers in her head too.

He’d give anything for that to be true.

“What do you mean?”

The asshole did have good timing.

“The night you told me about you two,” he closes his eyes, because the memory is pressing, “I had this whole plan laid out.”

He did have a plan. Bought flowers, her favorites. The lease was about to end, and he knew she was going to bring it up, what they wanted to do about it. He practiced the speech over, and over, and he was going to tell her about Spider-Man, where he goes those nights he comes home at 3 in the morning.

He was going to kiss her on the top of the Chrysler building. She deserved that kind of magic.

“Honey, I’m home!” He sing-sang as he walked through the door, looking out for her. The flowers were damp in his hand, and his heart rate was incredibly high, but he was determined.

“Hey Peter,” she replied from the living room.

“I made plans for us tonight, you’re gonna love em’, just wait-“

He didn’t actually know what made him stop in his tracks. It might’ve been the look on her face, or the way her folded hands were fidgeting, nervous energy pulsing in her form.

“Sweetheart, is everything okay?”

“Yeah! Totally good. I just wanted to tell you something.”

Fuck.

“I’ve been seeing this guy, the last few weeks, and well- it’s official! He asked me to be his girlfriend!”

Fuck.

“I was gonna ask you out, that night.”

“No you weren’t.” She says back, deadpan.

“Yes I was,” He repeats slowly, “Why do you think I brought flowers?”

“I don’t know? Maybe for one of the girls you kept coming home late from, but you were not going to ask me out.”

And- what the hell? He hasn’t talked to anyone but her since they met. Not even when she had Brad. She doesn’t sound mad, just- frustrated, and now, now it’s clicking.

She thought he was- out, when he was patrolling.

She thought he came to her, came home to her embrace, to movie nights and almost-kisses, to inside jokes and the first place that’s ever felt like home since he was a little kid, after being with other girls.

Can he even blame her? It’s not like oh, he’s Spider-Man, is the logical conclusion.

“I was,” he whispers, and he’s way too close to her to be anything but someone who wants her, far too inappropriate for the setting, “I bought flowers, I had a whole night planned, I-“ a sharp inhale, “I never wanted anyone but you.”

Her ex-boyfriend of about five minutes is here. It’s a business party for his best friend’s dad’s company. It’s totally inappropriate.

She’s about three inches from him, and he’s holding her, and everything in him is desperate. Desperate for the moment to last, for the opportunity to hold. To not lose her again.

“I didn’t know that.” She says, so low it’s almost a whisper.

He can smell the champagne on her breath, and he well and truly cannot help himself, he reaches out and holds the side of her face, drawing her in by her jawbone.

“What would you have said?”

She’s always got this grip on him, this draw to her that keeps him near, that he makes him want.

“I would’ve said that we’re friends-“

“We’re not just friends and you know that,” it’s a whisper, eyes fluttering from the proximity. It’d taken nothing, the tiniest push to kiss her. It’s intoxicating.

“And that I loved you.”

“Loved?”

“Love.”