#spider man!reader

At CatCo Worldwide Media, Kara Danvers— a new reporter, struggles to adjust until she meets Y/n Parker, the staff photographer. Meanwhile, under their masks, Supergirl and Spider-Man begin teaming up across the city, developing a friendly rivalry and a strong bond. But what neither expected, was falling in love with each other in both lives.

Warnings: Slow burn. Mentions of blood. Fluff. “Will-they-won’t-they” trope.

Word count: 3579

A/n: Save me Bilquis Evely’s Supergirl! (One of the best versions of her. Only comes in second to Dan Mora’s version). This was requested by an anon. Enjoy it!

The first time Y/n met Kara Danvers, she was standing awkwardly in the bullpen of CatCo Worldwide Media, clutching her notepad like a lifeline. She had that same deer-in-headlights expression every new hire wore when they realized how fast-paced the newsroom really was.

Y/n adjusted their camera strap and offered her a smile as they passed.

“New?” they asked.

The blonde woman nodded a little too quickly, glasses sliding down her nose. “First day. Kara. Reporter.” She extended her hand, and the photographer noticed her grip was warm but unsure.

“[Y/N]. Photographer.” Y/n shook her hand firmly, watching relief flicker across her face. It wasn’t much, but in the chaos of ringing phones and impatient editors, one friendly voice went a long way.

From then on, Y/n made a habit of helping her find her footing. They’d point out which printer never jammed, who brought the good donuts on Fridays, and which stories the editor actually read instead of skimming. The blonde laughed more easily around Y/n as the weeks went on, and soon their desks became an unofficial partnership zone: Kara’s scribbling away on articles, Y/n sifting through shots to match them.

But if anyone asked, they’d both deny the way their conversations lingered too long, or how their eyes found each other across the room even when they weren’t working together.

The bullpen noticed. Of course they did.

—————————

At night, the story flipped.

The city skyline blurred as Spider-Man swung between buildings, camera traded for web cartridges. Another patrol, another late night. That was when they first ran into her—Supergirl.

The woman landed in a rush of red and blue, cape catching the moonlight as if she owned the night. The criminal she’d just intercepted groaned on the pavement, unconscious.

Y/n perched on a lamppost, head cocked. “Show-off.”

The woman’s eyes snapped up, startled, then narrowed slightly when she saw the vigilante crouched there. “Spider-Man,” she said evenly, as though she’d been expecting them.

“Supergirl.” Y/n shot back, pretending her presence didn’t surprise them.

It started with simple team-ups. A bank robbery here, a runaway truck there. The two of them fell into rhythm easily, though they never admitted how much they liked having her around. The vigilante would tease the superwoman about her dramatic entrances, and she’d roll her eyes at their constant banter.

Still, there was an unspoken respect. Supergirl had saved them more than once, and Spider-Man returned the favor just as many times. Rivalry, friendship, something warmer they refused to name—it grew with every night.

—————————

Back at CatCo, Kara leaned over Y/n’s desk one afternoon, pretending to show them her latest draft while she whispered, “Supergirl saved three people from a fire last night.”

The photographer raised a brow. “Yeah? Spider-Man was there too. Guess they’re making a good team.”

The blonde tried to hide her smile, and Y/n didn’t even realize they mirrored it.

It became routine: she’d gush about Supergirl, and they’d deflect with mentions of Spider-Man. Both of them talked like outsiders, never realizing they were confessing to each other. Never realizing the warmth in their voices betrayed just how much they cared.

The bullpen noticed that, too.

The tension was everywhere—subtle enough that both Kara and Y/n could ignore it, but sharp enough that everyone else couldn’t. Jimmy raised his brows whenever he caught the pair lingering too close to the copy machine. Snapper grumbled about “office romances distracting people from deadlines.” Even Cat Grant herself, sharp-eyed as ever, smirked once and muttered, “Finally, some chemistry worth writing about.”

But the pair in question?

Y/n kept brushing it off. At least, they tried to. The problem was, they felt it twice over. At the office with Kara Danvers—the way she’d laugh at their sarcastic comments, or the way she chewed her pen cap while deep in thought. And on the rooftops with Supergirl—the way her determination lit up her face, or how her laugh came easily when their vigilante persona cracked a joke mid-fight.

It was maddening. Like two magnets pulling them in, not realizing they were the same one all along.

And maybe Y/n didn’t know yet. Maybe Kara didn’t either. But every night they fought side by side, and every day they worked side by side, the line blurred a little more.

It was only a matter of time.

—————————

The newsroom hummed with its usual chaos: phones ringing, keyboards clacking, editors barking for copy like generals on a battlefield. Y/n had learned to tune it out, letting the world shrink to the lens in their hands. But today, it was different.

Kara leaned against their desk, balancing two cups of coffee, her blonde hair tumbling into her face as she offered them one.

“You look like you need this,” she said with a sheepish grin.

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying I look tired?”

The woman’s smile widened. “More like overworked. Which, considering you’ve pulled three double shifts in a row, isn’t wrong.”

The photographer accepted the cup, trying not to notice how warm their fingers felt when they brushed the woman’s. “Thanks. You’re too nice.”

Kara shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Or maybe I’m just trying to bribe you into staying my partner on stories.”

It was meant as a joke, but the heat in Y/n’s chest wasn’t joking at all.

Later that night, they were crouched on the edge of a fire escape, mask tugged into place, listening to sirens howl in the distance. The city had a rhythm—Y/n knew when to wait and when to swing.

That rhythm broke with a familiar whoosh.

Supergirl landed beside them, cape fluttering against the wind. “Bank robbery, three blocks down.”

Y/n smirked under the mask. “You always know how to make an entrance.”

The woman shot the vigilante a sideways glance. “And you always stall for banter. Let’s go.”

The two of them moved like a single force. Where the woman soared, they swung; where they tangled goons in webs, the woman knocked weapons away like they were toys. By the time the cops arrived, the criminals were neatly tied up, one of them even dangling upside down from a lamppost courtesy of Spider-Man’s webbing.

Supergirl chuckled as she crossed her arms. “You know, not everyone enjoys being strung up like that.”

The vigilante tilted their head. “Not everyone, sure. But admit it—you laughed.”

The heroine's lips quirked, fighting a smile. “Maybe a little.”

—————————

The next day, back at CatCo, Y/n found themselves at lunch with Kara in the nearly empty breakroom. The blonde was stirring sugar into her tea, staring at nothing in particular.

“You ever meet someone,” she began carefully, “who… just makes things easier? Like, they show up, and suddenly it feels like you’re not carrying everything alone?”

Y/n’s chest tightened, because they had. Every night. But they played dumb. “You mean like a friend?”

“Yeah,” Kara said, though the word sounded inadequate. “Supergirl has Spider-Man now. They're funny and frustrating and a little reckless, but—they make her stronger. Braver.” She blinked quickly, as if realizing she’d said too much. “I mean… at least, that’s what people say.”

The photographer nearly choked on their ham sandwich. She’s talking about me.

Trying to cover, Y/n leaned back casually. “Well… Spider-Man probably feels the same. About Supergirl, I mean. They may act like a clown, but they never fought like that with anyone else. You can tell they… trust her.”

Kara’s eyes softened, and she looked at them like she wanted to say something more. But then her phone buzzed, dragging her back to the present.

“Story assignment,” she muttered, rising from her chair. “Come on, partner.”

That night, on a quiet rooftop overlooking the city lights, the pair of heroes caught their breath after a long chase.

Supergirl sat on the ledge, legs dangling. “You know… I think you’re my favorite partner.”

Y/n’s throat tightened under the mask. “Careful. I’ll get a big head.”

The blonde-haired woman laughed softly. “No, really. With you… it feels different. Like we’re… on the same wavelength.”

For a moment, they let the silence stretch, the city buzzing beneath their feet, her cape brushing against the vigilante’s arm in the night breeze.

And all Y/n could think was: She’s saying the same thing Kara did.

Y/n didn’t know how much longer the circle could go unbroken, but for now, neither of them moved to end it.

It was safer this way. Almost.

—————————

The bullpen was unusually quiet that morning, the kind of quiet that only came after a night when half the city had been in chaos. Y/n had swung home barely in time to shower and change before work, their ribs still aching from a near miss with a collapsing wall.

Kara noticed immediately.

“You look awful,” she blurted as the photographer slumped into their chair. The woman’s blue eyes widened, cheeks flushing pink. “I—I mean, you look tired. Like you didn’t sleep.”

Y/n gave her a weak grin, rubbing the back of their neck. “Rough night. Couldn’t turn my brain off.”

The blonde frowned, studying the photographer with an intensity that made Y/n want to squirm. Kara had this way of looking through people, like she could see every crack they tried to hide.

“Well,” she said finally, “if you ever… want to talk about it, I’m around.” Her smile softened into something earnest. “I’m a good listener.”

The thing was—they wanted to. Y/n wanted to tell her everything. But instead, they just nodded. “Thanks, partner.”

That night, Spider-Man was late to a meeting with Supergirl. The vigilante’s ribs still weren’t fully healed, but they pushed themselves anyway—because she was waiting.

The two of them were halfway through chasing down a stolen van when it happened. A sudden burst of gunfire forced Y/n to swing hard to the side, and pain shot through their chest. Y/n lost their rhythm, miscalculating a web shot, and slammed into the side of a building.

“Spider-Man!”

Supergirl was at their side in an instant, steady hands catching the vigilante before they could tumble. Her eyes blazed with worry.

“I’m fine,” they rasped, even though they weren’t.

“You’re not fine.” The woman’s voice cracked, sharper than the vigilante had ever heard it. “You’re hurt.”

Y/n tried to joke it off—because that’s what they did—but when her hand lingered against their arm, grounding them, the words died in their throat.

The woman could’ve pressed, could’ve demanded answers, but instead she just whispered, “Don’t scare me like that again.”

—————————

The next morning, Kara hovered by Y/n’s desk, fidgeting with her pen.

“You disappeared last night,” she said casually, but her voice carried something beneath it. “I called—uh, just to check in—but it went straight to voicemail.”

The photographer’s pulse jumped. She called? Y/n forced a shrug. “Phone died.”

The woman gave them a searching look. “You weren’t… in trouble, were you?”

Y/n shook their head too quickly. “Nope. Just clumsy me. Tripped over my laundry.”

Kara’s lips twitched, almost a smile, but her eyes lingered on them like she wasn’t buying it. Like she was connecting dots Y/n didn’t want her to.

Almost.

A week later, after another long night of patrols, Y/n found themselves swinging back toward their apartment when a red-and-blue streak intercepted them midair.

Supergirl hovered in front of the vigilante, arms crossed, expression firm. “You’ve been off your game. Distracted.”

Y/n bristled under the woman’s gaze. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” she said softly. “And I don’t know if it’s the same thing you don’t talk about during the day—”

Y/n’s heart stopped.

“—but if you need help, Spider-Man, you can trust me.”

The air between the pair was charged with something unspoken, Supergirl’s blue eyes locked on Y/n’s through their mask lenses. For a dizzying second, the vigilante thought she might reach up and pull it away.

But the woman didn’t. Instead, she floated back, voice quieter. “Just… don’t shut me out.”

And then she was gone, cape vanishing into the night sky.

Y/n stood frozen on the rooftop, pulse hammering.

Because the truth was, they didn’t want to shut her out. Y/n wanted her to know. Both of her.

And maybe she already started suspecting too.

—————————

The day started with chaos. Not unusual for CatCo, but unusual for Y/n.

The city had been loud all night—sirens, explosions, that constant pulse of danger—and the vigilante had barely gotten an hour’s rest before showing up for work. Y/n’s hair was damp from the fastest shower of their life, and they’d forgotten their tie. Worse, their side still ached from where debris had clipped them during the chase.

Kara noticed. Of course she did.

“You’re limping,” the woman said as soon as Y/n slid into their chair.

The photographer forced a smile, lifting their camera. “Heavy equipment bag. Occupational hazard.”

Kara’s brows drew together. “You should be more careful.”

Something in her voice—gentle, but weighted—made Y/n’s throat tighten. She sounded too much like Supergirl in that moment.

That night, after yet another patrol, Y/n made the rookie mistake of cutting through an alley to save time. The vigilante had their mask halfway pulled off, ribs screaming from another too-close encounter, when you heard:

“Y/n?”

Y/n’s blood froze.

Kara’s voice.

The vigilante yanked their mask back down and vaulted onto the nearest fire escape, heart hammering, as the woman stepped into the alley. She wasn’t in her Supergirl suit—just Kara, clutching her bag against her shoulder, wide eyes scanning the shadows.

Y/n crouched above her, holding their breath.

“Thought I saw…” the blonde-haired woman murmured to herself, shaking her head. “No. That’s impossible.”

Kara’s phone buzzed then, and she sighed, turning back toward the street. Y/n didn’t move until the sound of her footsteps faded.

The vigilante’s pulse only slowed when they realized how close they’d come. One second later, and Kara would have known.

—————————

Two days later, during lunch, Kara leaned over Y/n’s desk with that curious tilt to her head.

“You ever think about… secret lives?” she asked.

The photographer blinked, trying to keep their voice casual. “What, like… leading a double life? Work during the day, vigilante at night?”

The corner of the woman’s mouth twitched, like they’d hit too close to home. “Exactly.” Kara fiddled with her glasses. “I just think… it must be exhausting. Keeping so much of yourself hidden. Especially from people you…” Her voice faltered. “…care about.”

Y/n stared at the blonde woman, words caught in their throat. She was talking about herself. But Y/n couldn’t admit they were too.

“Yeah,” they said finally, soft. “I think about that a lot.”

The silence between the pair was heavy, charged. For a moment, it felt like the world shrank to just the two of them, their truths hovering in the air between their desks.

And then Jimmy shouted across the room, shattering it.

Kara jumped, cheeks flushed. And Y/n busied themselves with their camera, trying to steady their breathing.

Later that week, Spider-Man and Supergirl stood side by side on a rooftop after chasing down a gang through the city. Both of them were winded, the night alive with neon glow.

The woman glanced at the vigilante, her cape rippling in the breeze. “Spider-Man… do you ever feel like you’re lying to the people closest to you?”

The question hit Y/n like a punch.

“All the time,” they admitted, voice low.

Supergirl nodded, her jaw tightening. “Me too.”

There was a long pause. Her eyes met theirs through their mask lenses—open, searching, like she wanted to strip away the mask right there and end the guessing.

Y/n’s hands twitched, tempted to tug the mask up themselves. To show her.

But neither of them moved. Not yet.

Instead, the vigilante said softly, “If they knew… I just don’t think they’d look at me the same.”

The woman’s smile was sad, almost bitter. “I know exactly what you mean.”

And then the silence returned, deeper than before, holding all the words neither of them was brave enough to say.

They were getting closer. Too close. One day soon, the masks wouldn’t hold.

—————————

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

The night had started like any other—sirens, distant explosions, the city calling for help. Spider-Man and Supergirl had split up, trying to corner an armed tech gang who’d stolen alien weaponry. It should have been routine.

Until it wasn’t.

The blast came out of nowhere—an unstable rifle overheating in some thug’s hands. Y/n dodged too late, their web-line snapping as the explosion hurled them through a billboard and into the side of a building.

Pain exploded in their chest. They couldn’t breathe. Their mask tore halfway off as they hit the rooftop hard, coughing through the smoke.

“Spider-Man!”

Supergirl’s voice cut through the chaos. A red-and-blue blur landed beside the fallen vigilante, hands trembling as she turned them onto their back. Spider-Man’s mask hung loose around their jaw.

And Kara froze.

Y/n saw it in her eyes—the shock, the recognition, the world tilting all at once.

“Y/N…” she whispered, voice cracking.

For a heartbeat, Y/n thought about lying. Pulling the mask back up. Pretending. But they were too tired, too broken, too done with pretending.

“Yeah,” they rasped. “It’s me.”

Kara’s hands hovered above their face, almost afraid to touch. “All this time—you—”

Y/n forced a pained smile. “Guess that makes two of us, huh, Supergirl?”

The woman’s eyes widened, but Y/n saw the truth in them—she knew the game was up. Slowly, like a curtain falling, Kara straightened and let the weight of her secret slip into the open.

“Kara,” she whispered. “It’s Kara.”

The rooftop seemed to go silent, the city below nothing but distant noise.

The pair stared at each other, the pieces clicking into place—every smile at the office, every banter-filled fight, every moment they’d thought was a coincidence.

It had always been her.

“You’re—” Y/n started.

“You’re—” Kara tried.

And then they both laughed, shaky and breathless, like two people finally waking up from a dream.

Kara’s hands were still pressed lightly against Y/n’s chest, grounding them. Her voice dropped, fragile but certain.

“I’ve been… falling for you,” she admitted, words tumbling out like she couldn’t hold them in anymore. “At work, on rooftops—I didn’t even realize it was the same person. But it’s you. It’s always been you.”

Y/n’s throat tightened. “Funny. I was about to say the same thing.”

The blonde-haired woman’s breath hitched, a laugh caught between nerves and relief. “You mean it?”

The vigilante nodded, wincing against the pain but smiling anyway. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you twice over. Just didn’t know how to tell you.”

The city lights painted Kara in gold, her blue eyes glassy with something she’d been holding back for far too long.

And then she leaned down, brushing her lips against Y/n’s, soft but certain.

The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, like testing the truth—but the warmth of it shattered whatever walls were left between them.

When Kara finally pulled back, her forehead rested against Y/n’s, her smile trembling but radiant.

“So,” she whispered, “partners?”

Y/n chuckled, coughing a little. “Partners.”

And for the first time, the word felt whole.

Bonus Chapter:

The Monday after the rooftop incident, Y/n and Kara walked into the CatCo bullpen together. Not side by side—too obvious—but close enough that Jimmy glanced up from his desk, smirked, and muttered, “Took you long enough.”

Y/n froze. And Kara nearly tripped over her own feet.

“What—what do you mean?” she stammered, pushing her glasses up her nose.

Jimmy leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “Please. The way you two orbit each other? The coffee runs, the late nights, the ‘secret smiles’ you think no one notices? We’ve all had a betting pool for months.”

Y/n blinked. “A what?”

Before Jimmy could elaborate, Snapper grumbled from across the room without looking up from his laptop. “Just get your stories in on time. I don’t care if you’re dating, married, or eloping.”

Y/n’s face went hot. And Kara’s cheeks burned pink. The pair both hurried to their respective desks in awkward silence, though their hands brushed as they sat down. Neither of them moved them away.

Later that week, the city needed them both again. A bridge collapse, a stampede of cars, the kind of disaster that once would’ve felt impossible alone.

But this time, Y/n and Kara didn’t just fight side by side—they moved as one. Her strength, their agility, her precision, their webs. She caught falling debris while they pulled civilians clear. They finished each other’s shouts, anticipated each other’s moves.

When the dust settled, Supergirl turned to the vigilante, hair a mess, cheeks smudged with soot, and grinned.

“Not bad, partner.”

Y/n grinned back, tugging their mask up just enough to meet the woman’s lips for a quick kiss before swinging away.

The crowd that had gathered erupted into cheers. Someone even whistled.

They’d never live that down.

—————————

At Y/n’s apartment later, the adrenaline gone, Kara sat curled up on their couch in her civilian clothes, sipping tea from the photographer’s favorite mug. Her glasses were off, hair loose, and she looked more like herself than she ever did in either role.

“You know,” she murmured, “I think this might be the first time I feel like I can breathe. No masks, no lies.” She glanced at the photographer, smile softening. “Just… us.”

Y/n reached over, intertwining their fingers with hers. “Yeah. Just us.”

There was silence then—not heavy like before, but peaceful. The kind of silence that felt like home.

Mary Jane is used to big moments—whether it’s on stage, in front of a camera, or swinging through the city. But this Valentine’s Day, she’s the one pulling off the grand gesture.

Word count: 1821

Warnings: Spider-Man! Reader. Established relationship.

New York City was always breathtaking at night. The way the skyline glittered against the dark, the hum of life that never truly quieted—it was a stage Mary Jane Watson knew well. Whether under the bright lights of Broadway or the flashing bulbs of paparazzi, she was used to grand moments.

But tonight? Tonight was different.

Tonight, Mary Jane wasn’t the one being swept off her feet by a web-slinging hero. She wasn’t the one improvising, reacting, living in the thrilling unpredictability of her life with Y/n. No, this time, she was the one planning the big moment. And if she had her way, it would be perfect.

Y/n had no idea what was coming.

Mary Jane had been careful, dropping hints but never too many, playing it cool even when she was buzzing with excitement. It was Valentine’s Day, and for once, she wanted to be the one pulling off the impossible. Y/n had done so much for her—saving her, loving her, making the impossible feel like an everyday miracle. Now, it was her turn.

So, when Y/n arrived at the rooftop she had told them to meet her at, they were met with something straight out of a dream.

Fairy lights were strung up between the buildings, casting a golden glow over the rooftop. A small table was set with candles, their flickering light illuminating takeout containers from Y/n’s favorite spot. Soft jazz played from a speaker nearby—Mary Jane’s signature mix of old-school romance and effortless cool. And in the center of it all, Mary Jane stood, grinning like she had just pulled off the role of a lifetime.

“Whoa,” Y/n breathed, stepping forward. “Red, did you—?”

The redhead woman shrugged like it was nothing, but the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her excitement. “You always do the big, dramatic stuff. Thought it was my turn.”

Y/n’s heart swelled as they took in every detail—the way she had thought of everything, the way she had turned a simple night into something extraordinary.

“You’re incredible,” they murmured, pulling her into a soft kiss.

The redhead smirked against Y/n’s lips. “I know.”

Dinner was easy, filled with laughter and teasing, MJ stealing bites from Y/n’s plate even when she had the same thing on hers. She told stories from rehearsals, Y/n shared the latest from their day, and for a little while, it was just the two of them, the city fading into background noise.

Then, just as the night felt like it couldn’t get any better, Mary Jane stood, holding out her hand.

“Dance with me?”

Y/n chuckled. “On a rooftop?”

“Afraid?” the redhead arched a brow.

“Never.”

Mary Jane pulled Y/n in, swaying to the music, her arms wrapped around their neck, Y/n’s settling at her waist. The city stretched out below, endless and alive, but right now, all that mattered was her—the warmth of her touch, the way she looked at Y/n like they were the best thing in her world.

As the song came to an end, Mary Jane leaned in, her lips brushing against Y/n’s ear as she whispered the words that made their heart stop.

“Face it, Tiger… you just won the jackpot.”

Y/n’s breath hitched. Mary Jane pulled back, grinning, waiting for their reaction.

Y/n laughed, shaking their head. “You went all out, huh?”

“For you? Always.”

As Y/n kissed her under the city lights, they realized something—Mary Jane Watson had pulled off the perfect grand gesture. And in doing so, she reminded them of the simplest truth.

She was their jackpot, too.

———————-

The night wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

Mary Jane could tell by the way Y/n was looking at her, eyes still wide with surprise, a hint of something softer lingering beneath. She’d caught them off guard, and that was exactly what she had hoped for. After all, Y/n was the one always swooping in, the one making her feel like she was the center of the universe. Tonight, it was her turn to return the favor.

The redhead laced her fingers with Y/n’s, swaying slightly even though the music had faded into the city’s natural rhythm—cars in the distance, the occasional honk, the sound of the wind weaving through the buildings.

“Okay,” Y/n murmured, shaking their head like they still couldn’t believe it. “You planned all this?”

The woman smirked. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I’m not—it’s just… I’m usually the one pulling stunts like this.”

Mary Jane hummed, leaning up to press a soft kiss to the corner of their mouth. “And look how good I am at stealing your thing.”

Y/n laughed, squeezing her waist. “Yeah, you might be too good at it.”

The redhead spun Y/n around suddenly, pulling them into another slow, effortless dance, just because she could. The city stretched out beneath them, the twinkling skyline reflecting in her green eyes as she tilted her head.

“You know,” she mused, “I wasn’t sure I could pull this off.”

Y/n raised a brow. “Mary Jane Watson? Doubting herself? Now that’s new.”

Mary Jane scoffed, swatting Y/n’s shoulder playfully. “I’m serious. It’s different, y’know? Planning something for you. You always make me feel like I’m in a movie—like every moment is this huge, magical thing. I wanted to do that for you, for once.”

Y/n’s chest ached in the best way. The thought of Mary Jane, someone who thrived in the spotlight, spending weeks planning something just for them—just to make them feel the way she always did when she was in their arms—was overwhelming in the best way.

Y/n tightened their grip on the woman’s waist, pulling her closer. “You didn’t have to do all this, Red.”

The redhead smirked. “I know.”

“But I love that you did.”

Mary Jane’s expression softened. “Yeah?”

Y/n nodded, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You always make things exciting, Red. But this? This was… perfect.”

The redhead grinned. “Good. Because I wasn’t done yet.”

Y/n’s brows furrowed, but before they could ask, Mary Jane took a step back, tugging them with her.

“Come on,” she said, backing toward the ledge of the rooftop. “One last surprise.”

Y/n’s heart picked up, but they trusted her. They always did.

And then Mary Jane jumped.

Y/n barely had time to react before the redhead pulled them with her, their stomach flipping as the two of them fell—only for them to realize that MJ wasn’t panicking. No, she was laughing, and it took Y/n half a second to register that she had something wrapped around her wrist.

A web.

Their web.

Y/n barely had time to be impressed before the web went taut, swinging both forward, Mary Jane’s arms wrapping around Y/n’s shoulders as she whooped in excitement.

“You stole my web shooter?” they yelled, half amused, half amazed.

“Borrowed!” Mary Jane corrected over the rush of wind. “You always get to do the swinging—figured it was my turn.”

Y/n couldn’t even argue. The thrill of swinging through the city with her in control was… new. Different. And Mary Jane? She was good.

She maneuvered the web like she’d been doing it forever, twisting effortlessly, pulling them both higher, then lower, the wind rushing through their hair.

Y/n’s heart pounded as the redhead executed a perfect arc before finally landing on another rooftop, her boots hitting the surface with a confidence that made their breath catch.

Mary Jane turned to Y/n, grinning wide. “So? How’d I do?”

Y/n stared at her for a moment, then shook their head, letting out a breathless laugh.

“Red,” they said, stepping closer, “you are the jackpot.”

Mary Jane’s smirk faltered for a second, surprise flickering in her expression—before she rolled her eyes, wrapping her arms around Y/n’s neck.

“Damn right, Tiger.”

As Y/n kissed her under the stars, the city stretching endlessly around them, they realized something—tonight might have been Mary Jane’s grand gesture, but every moment with her felt like winning the jackpot.

Bonus Chapter:

By the time Y/n and Mary Jane made it back to her apartment, they were both still buzzing from the night’s events.

Mary Jane had flopped onto the couch, arms stretched over her head, a satisfied grin on her face. “Not bad, huh?”

Y/n sat beside her, shaking their head in disbelief. “Not bad? You swung us through the city using my web shooters. That was insane.”

The redhead turned her head to smirk at them. “Insanely hot, you mean.”

Y/n rolled their eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “You could have told me you planned on jumping off a rooftop.”

“And miss that look on your face?” Mary Jane nudged them playfully. “No way.”

Y/n exhaled, leaning back into the couch, still absorbing everything. The fairy lights, the rooftop dinner, the dancing… and then Mary Jane stealing their thing and swinging them both across the skyline like she’d been doing it for years.

Y/n turned to her. “Be honest. How long have you been practicing with the web shooter?”

The redhead bit her lip, eyes sparkling mischievously. “Two weeks.”

Y/n’s jaw dropped. “Two weeks?”

“I had to make sure I didn’t, y’know… die.”

Y/n groaned, running a hand down their face. “Mary Jane Watson, you are going to be the death of me.”

The redhead grinned, reaching over to sit on Yn’s lap, arms draping lazily around their shoulders. “Nah. I’d never let anything happen to my jackpot.”

Y/n’s face heated, but they let the redhead hold them like that, her fingers tracing slow circles against the back of their neck. For all the grand gestures of the night, this was the part Y/n loved the most—the quiet moments after. Just the two of them, tangled up.

After a beat, Mary Jane sighed dramatically. “Okay, now that I’ve officially nailed my own big, romantic moment, I need food.”

Y/n laughed. “We just ate.”

The redhead pouted. “Swinging is hard work.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Red, you swung, like, twice.”

“And I looked amazing doing it,” the woman countered. “That burns, like, double the calories.”

Y/n snorted. “That’s not how that works.”

“Agree to disagree.” She grabbed her phone and started scrolling. “Chinese? Pizza? Oh! There’s this new dumpling place I’ve been meaning to try—”

Y/n shook their head fondly, watching as their girlfriend got completely lost in her food search, talking half to them, half to herself about exactly what she was craving.

And it hit Y/n, all over again—Mary Jane could plan rooftop dinners, and she could steal their web-shooters, and she could knock them off their feet with a single line… but at the end of the day, it was this version of her that had stolen their heart.

Completely.

Hopelessly.

Y/n leaned in, pressing a kiss on Mary Jane’s cheek. “Whatever you want, Red.”

The redhead blinked, surprised at the sudden affection, before her smirk softened into something warmer.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Mary Jane beamed, then immediately turned back to her phone. “Cool. I’m getting both dumplings and pizza.”

Y/n laughed, wrapping an arm around the woman as she made the call, already knowing they’d let her steal their web-shooters again if it meant getting to love her like this.

Gwen Stacy, also known as Spider-Woman, takes her younger sibling, Y/n on their first patrol through New York City. While Y/n is eager to prove themselves, their inexperience quickly shows as they struggle to keep up with Gwen.

Word count: 1969

Warnings: None. Sibling fluff.

A/n: This was requested by an anon. Enjoy it!

The moon hung high above New York City, its silvery light glinting off the glossy skyscrapers and shadowed alleyways. Gwen Stacy, dressed in her black and white Spider-Woman suit, perched on the edge of a towering building, her web-shooters primed. Beside her stood her younger sibling, Y/n Stacy, wearing a makeshift suit Gwen had patched together from old gear.

“You ready for this, rookie?” Gwen teased, flashing a grin beneath her mask.

Y/n adjusted their gloves nervously, the faint tremor in their voice betraying their excitement. “Ready as I’ll ever be. What’s the plan?”

Gwen pointed to the streets below. “We start with a sweep of downtown. Word on the web is there’s been a string of break-ins near Chinatown. Then we check out Hell’s Kitchen. Simple enough, right?”

“Yeah, sure. Simple.” Y/n’s voice cracked slightly, earning a chuckle from Gwen.

She shot a web toward a nearby crane. “Follow my lead, and keep up!” With a leap, she launched herself into the night, swinging gracefully between buildings.

Y/n hesitated for a heartbeat before following, their movements less fluid but determined.

“Not bad for your first swing!” Gwen called over her shoulder.

“Not bad? I’m amazing!” Y/n whooped, narrowly dodging a billboard as they wove through the cityscape.

The siblings landed quietly on a rooftop overlooking a quiet street. Gwen crouched, scanning the scene below. “See that?” She pointed to a trio of figures trying to jimmy open the back door of a jewelry store.

Y/n nodded. “Three of them. What’s the move?”

“Stay up here and watch my back,” Gwen said firmly. “I’ll handle this.”

“Wait, no way! I want in!”

“Y/n, you’re not ready yet,” Gwen argued, her tone firm but protective.

Y/n crossed their arms. “I’ve been training with you for weeks, Gwen. I can do this.”

Gwen sighed, relenting. “Fine. But stick close and don’t do anything reckless.”

With a nod, the two descended silently, landing behind the unsuspecting thieves. Gwen struck first, webbing one of them to the wall in a single fluid motion. Y/n followed suit, clumsily firing a web that partially wrapped around another thief’s arm.

“Uh, little help here?” Y/n called as the thief yanked free and charged at them.

Gwen sprang into action, delivering a swift kick that sent the thief sprawling. “Nice try, but maybe work on your aim.”

The third thief bolted down the alley, but Gwen and Y/n were faster. With a synchronized leap, they cornered him, Gwen’s web pinning him to the ground.

———————

Later, as the two swung back toward Midtown, the adrenaline rush began to fade. Gwen noticed Y/n lagging slightly, their swings less enthusiastic.

“Hey, you okay?” she asked, landing on a rooftop to give them a moment to catch their breath.

Y/n plopped down beside her, leaning heavily against her shoulder. “Yeah, just… tired. That was a lot.”

Gwen smirked, wrapping an arm around them. “Welcome to the life, rookie. It’s not all swinging and quips, you know.”

“I noticed,” Y/n mumbled, their eyes drooping.

Within minutes, Y/n’s breathing evened out as they dozed off against Gwen’s shoulder. She sighed, glancing down at their peaceful face.

“Guess I’m carrying you home,” she muttered affectionately. Carefully, she secured Y/n with her webbing before slinging them over her back.

As she swung through the city, Gwen felt a pang of protectiveness surge in her chest. The world was dangerous enough for someone like her—she wasn’t about to let her sibling face it alone.

“Sleep tight, kid,” she whispered as the city lights blurred beneath them.

————————

The wind rushed past Gwen’s face as she swung through the shimmering streets of New York City, her younger sibling Y/n still slumped against her back. Their makeshift suit looked a little awkward now, rumpled from the evening’s activities, but Gwen couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at her lips.

“You always talk such a big game,” she muttered under her breath, glancing back at Y/n’s peaceful face. “One patrol and you’re already out like a light.”

She adjusted her grip, making sure the webbing securing Y/n was snug but not too tight. Below, the city pulsed with life—honking horns, muffled chatter, and distant music drifting up from the streets. Despite the chaos, something was calming about patrolling like this, especially when the biggest problem right now was the sibling on her back.

Gwen swung onto a quiet rooftop near their apartment building and carefully set Y/n down. They stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent. Gwen crouched beside them, shaking her head with a fond chuckle.

“You know, for someone who begged to come along, you didn’t exactly last long.” She poked their side, earning a faint groan.

Y/n cracked one eye open, groggy but stubborn. “I was just… resting my eyes. You’re the one who said I needed a break.”

Gwen arched a brow. “Resting your eyes, huh? Pretty sure you were snoring.”

“I don’t snore!” Y/n shot back, sitting up with a huff, but the effect was ruined by their wobbling head and half-lidded gaze.

Gwen stood, stretching. “Sure you don’t. Anyway, you did okay back there for the first time. A little sloppy, but not bad.”

Y/n perked up at the rare praise. “Yeah? You think so?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Gwen said, crossing her arms. “You still have a lot to learn. Like how not to get tangled in your web.”

Y/n groaned, their face turning pink. “That was one time!”

“And I’ve got it on video,” Gwen teased, holding up her phone.

“Gwen!” Y/n lunged for the phone, but Gwen sidestepped easily, laughing as she webbed it to her wrist.

“Lesson one: always anticipate your opponent’s next move.”

“Lesson two,” Y/n grumbled, flopping back onto the rooftop, “don’t patrol with your annoying older sister.”

Gwen sat down beside them, the laughter fading into a comfortable silence as they gazed out at the city. “You’re not bad, you know. Brave, maybe a little reckless. You remind me of someone.”

Y/n tilted their head. “Dad?”

Gwen’s smile softened a bittersweet edge to it. “Yeah. He’d be proud of you. Both for what you did tonight and for being smart enough to know when to rest.”

Y/n looked down, their voice quieter now. “You think so?”

“Of course,” Gwen said firmly. “But I’m gonna make sure you don’t get in over your head. That’s my job.”

Y/n smirked, the playful glint returning to their eyes. “And here I thought I was supposed to be the one protecting you.”

“Oh, please,” Gwen said, nudging them with her shoulder. “I’ve been doing this way longer than you. You’re the sidekick, remember?”

“Sidekick?!” Y/n sat up, mock-indignant. “I’ll have you know I’m a full-fledged hero in training!”

“Keep telling yourself that, rookie.”

The next morning, Gwen found Y/n passed out on the couch, still in their rumpled suit. She tossed a blanket over them, a small smile tugging at her lips as she headed to the kitchen.

Her phone buzzed with a notification. Pulling it out, she saw a news article headline: “Spider-Woman and Mysterious New Ally Save Jewelry Store!”

She glanced back at Y/n, who was now drooling slightly onto the couch cushion. Shaking her head, Gwen chuckled.

“Hero in training, huh? Guess you’re off to a good start.”

Bonus Chapter:

A week after Y/n’s first patrol, Gwen had reluctantly agreed to let them join her again. Reluctantly, because the last thing she wanted was for her sibling to get hurt—or worse—but Y/n was insistent. They’d trained harder, practiced swinging, and even upgraded their gear.

Now, perched on the edge of another Manhattan rooftop, Gwen watched Y/n stretch dramatically.

“You’re seriously going to pull a muscle before we even start,” Gwen said, crossing her arms.

“Don’t be jealous because I’m limber,” Y/n quipped, rolling their shoulders.

Gwen snorted. “Right. Limber. That’s definitely what you were when you faceplanted into that water tower last time.”

Y/n shot her a mock glare. “Low blow.”

“You’re just making it too easy.” Gwen stood and fired a web. “Come on, rookie. Time to prove you’ve got what it takes.”

Y/n launched after her, their swings smoother this time but still lacking the effortless grace Gwen had honed over the years. They followed her through the city, weaving around buildings and soaring over the streets below.

“This is awesome!” Y/n shouted, laughing as they gained momentum.

Gwen glanced back, smirking. “Don’t get cocky!”

Just as she said it, Y/n’s web snagged on a streetlamp, and they went spinning out of control. With a panicked yelp, they let go and tumbled toward an alley.

“Y/n!” Gwen shot a web, catching them midair and yanking them toward her. They collided, dangling awkwardly from her line as she swung to a nearby rooftop.

Y/n groaned, rubbing their head. “That… could’ve gone better.”

“You think?” Gwen said, exasperated but relieved. She set them down and crossed her arms. “I told you not to get cocky.”

“Okay, okay. Lesson learned.” Y/n looked sheepish, their cheeks red.

Gwen sighed, ruffling their hair. “You’re lucky I’m here to save your butt.”

Before Y/n could respond, her communicator buzzed. She tapped it, listening intently as a police scanner crackled to life.

“…10-31 reported near the Brooklyn Bridge. All units respond.”

“That’s us,” Gwen said, already firing a web. “Let’s move!”

The scene was chaos. A group of masked thieves had hijacked a delivery truck and were speeding recklessly through the streets, pursued by several police cars.

“Okay, rookie,” Gwen said as they perched on a lamppost overlooking the chase. “You take the back. Web the tires, and slow them down. I’ll handle the driver.”

Y/n nodded, determination replacing their earlier embarrassment. “Got it.”

They swung into action, sticking to the shadows as they positioned themselves behind the speeding truck. Timing their move perfectly, Y/n fired two webs, snagging the rear tires. With a loud screech, the truck skidded, veering wildly.

“Nice shot!” Gwen called, swinging alongside the cab. She kicked through the passenger-side window, startling the driver. Before he could react, she webbed his hands to the wheel, forcing the truck to a halt.

The thieves in the back scrambled to escape, but Y/n was ready. They landed in front of the truck, blocking their path.

“Going somewhere?” Y/n quipped, firing a web that pinned two of them to the side of the vehicle.

The last thief tried to bolt, but Gwen dropped from above, landing in front of him with a smirk. “You must be new here,” she said, webbing him to the ground.

Within minutes, the police arrived to clean up the scene. Gwen and Y/n watched from a nearby rooftop, hidden in the shadows.

“You did good,” Gwen admitted, nudging Y/n with her elbow.

Y/n grinned. “You’re not just saying that because I didn’t faceplant this time, are you?”

Gwen rolled her eyes but smiled. “Don’t push your luck.”

Back at home, the adrenaline finally wore off, and Y/n flopped onto the couch with a groan.

“Heroing is exhausting,” they mumbled into a pillow.

Gwen tossed them a water bottle and sat down beside them. “Tell me about it. But hey, you’re getting better. Maybe one day you’ll even be as good as me.”

Y/n sat up, smirking. “As good as you? Please. I’m gonna be better.”

“Oh, is that so?” Gwen asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Absolutely,” Y/n said confidently.

“Alright, rookie,” Gwen said, leaning back with a smirk. “When you can swing without falling on your face, we’ll talk.”

Y/n groaned, throwing a pillow at her, but Gwen just laughed.

“Better get some rest,” she said, ruffling their hair. “We’re hitting the streets again tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Y/n groaned, flopping back onto the couch. “I’m never gonna survive this.”