Is there really no way at all to promote 616 Gwen Stacy’s first ever solo book without bringing up MJ, pitting her against Gwen, and igniting dumb shipping wars in the process?
Note to Marvel: pissing off fans is probably not a good way to sell and convince people to buy a book. It’s like they want don’t want her solo to succeed.
“I think I knew MJ by reputation before I knew MJ in the comics. She’s iconic and beloved - and it’s something that resonates beyond the comics and beyond the movies, even.
I’m not sure how else to describe how widely beloved she is other than explaining that Stan Lee originally wanted Gwen Stacy to be the great love of Peter Parker’s life, but like, several generations of Marvel comics fans were collectively like "No?? Because Mary Jane Watson? Hello?!”“
Spidey Fact: Before the Gwen Stacy and Mary Jane love triangle existed, their was Liz Allen and Betty Brant. Liz and Betty made up the original Spider-Man love triangle during Peters high school years.
Amazing Spider-Man #116 (Lee & Conway/Romita, Jan 1973). Deja vu! With some clever dialogue edits and a fresh coat of paints, Gerry Conway recycles pages from Spectacular Spider-Man #1.
hi gwen! thought you should know i named my rabbit Gwen after the version of you in the spider-verse movie!! we like to call her Gwanda. she’s so soft!
here she is with her sister Midna (the black rabbit) and old man Emmet (black and white Dutch!)
[[After some deliberation, I decided that this blog is its own Earth! This is so that I can more easily combine influences from both the movie and the comics, as well as pick and choose what events are canon. Thus, instead of Earth-65, this is now Earth-650! Welcome!!]]
SUMMARY: Takes place after Peter returned from the multiverse. Though he survived New City’s newest villain, he felt the weight of the life claimed. In the midst of a breakdown, he meets a young woman who offers her assistance.
TW: none really? cursing
WORD COUNT: 6500
The only sound down the dark alleyway was that of an offbeat pair of footsteps. They echoed as he limped home in the soft, cool Autumn wind. Having survived the battle meant nothing to him knowing that someone didn’t get so lucky. His thoughts circulated like a storm in his mind; quick, loud, unavoidable. So much so that the typical New York City ambience was drowned out by his anxiety ridden mind and the sound of his limp.
His ribs throbbed from the bleeding gash that now decorated them. A deep breath sat at the forefront of his mind, teasing him with the relief of the mindful action. It was, however, impossible with the injuries to his chest and the impending panic attack that loomed above him.
A child was the newest victim of New York’s newest enemy. The city named him The Collector, seeing as he always took something from his victims. He used a device on his wrist to freeze everyone around him. Everyone except for Peter. He watched as he grabbed a little boy. He watched the fear of his mother, terrorized by the sight, forced to watch because of the temporary paralysis. Peter fought. And he failed.
It had been years since anyone has terrorized the city in this way. It had been years since he needed to suit up for anything other than his nightly patrol. Even then, he only needed to fight off common criminals and saving the people of New York. Not long after Gwen died, the city’s overwhelming chaos and villains did too.
He missed those days.
He missed her.
Tap tap… Tap tap… Tap tap…
The soft sound of his limp was deafening. It sounded like a line from a dreary blank verse poem; one of war, loss, and heartbreak. It was evidence of the failed mission. He grunted, trying desperately to correct the limp to no avail.
The sounded echoed is his mind. It was a sick reminder of the night’s previous events; of the fact that his best effort no longer being as effective as it once was.
His thoughts now swelled like the dark clouds of a storm; the wind deafening. His surroundings disappeared into the anxiety induced tunnel vision. He finally let out a frustrated scream as he fell to his knees. He felt the weight of the child’s life, the weight of the mother’s scream fall onto him. He openly sobbed at the bitter memory.
In the midst of his cries, he failed to hear the woman above him open up her window and step onto the fire escape.
“Are you okay?” She spoke up hesitantly. He looked up to see her climbing down the fire escape. He wiped his tears as she landed on the floor and walked over to him. She looked at the broken man in front of her and looked down in concern; his eyes refused to meet her own. “Should I call an ambulance?”
“No,” He grumbled. “I can’t afford to go to the hospital. I’m fine. It looked worse than it is.”
A silence fell upon the two of them. He was grateful he changed into his regular clothes beforehand, not wanting to be seen in this state as Spiderman. The adrenaline that aided him in the process was now completely drained from his body.
She shifted and grabbed her backpack to pull something out. He kept his gaze on her hands, skeptical of the stranger before him.
She smiled, handing him a bottle of water. He furrowed his brows and looked up. That’s when he caught a glimpse of her beautiful features. Her warm gaze felt like the sun after a weeklong storm; relieving, happy, bright. His breath hitched out of sheer surprise; her beauty was unique and magnetic. He looked down at the bottle and gently grabbed it from her hand.
“I’d offer you an alcoholic drink but you don’t look like you’re in any condition to handle dehydration,” She continued to speak softly, as if trying not to spook him. He sensed a genuine kindness. “I worked as a CNA to get me through college. I’m pretty good with stitches if you want me to-”
“Didn’t your mom never teach you not to talk to strangers?” Peter mumbled as he opened the bottle to take a sip. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone, regardless of how melodic her voice was or how sweet her doe eyed gaze was.
“She didn’t get the chance to,” The stranger shrugged. This caught his attention; he slowly lowered the bottle from his lips as she continued to talk. “She died when I when I was young. My dad, on the other hand, taught me several lessons. Keeping my ass off of the New York City concrete was one of them. You would not believe the amount of times I’ve seen someone puke in that exact spot.”
His face twisted up in disgust as he looked down. Sure enough, the patch of pavement he sat on was stained a questionable color. She giggled and extended her arm towards him to help me up.
“Gross,” He muttered, as he took her hand. “Ignorance is bliss sometimes. Thank you for that.”
“It got you off the floor, didn’t it?” She smirked. He smiled halfheartedly and shrugged. “Um.. so I’m sure your mom taught you not to go home with a stranger, but can I take you up to my apartment and patch you up?”
He hesitated, looking into her eyes. It was too dark to see exactly what color they were but light enough to see the concern on her face. He sighed before nodding. She perked up slightly before reaching for his arm. She began slowly lifting it to wrap around her shoulder, wanting to ease his limp as his crutch.
“Wait, wait,” He said quickly. She froze, looking at him with wide eyes. “Other side, I don’t think I can lift this arm.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” She winced, moving to his other side. She repeated the motion, and let him share his weight in order to walk him into the building and the old elevator. They walked in silence until they reached the fourth floor. The elevator dinged and she guided him to the third apartment on the left. He watched as she fumbled with your keys a bit before finally opening the door. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
He looked around at his surroundings. The apartment was small but it was charming nonetheless. She had candles burning on the coffee table and vintage art covering the walls. He heard a soft tune playing from the record player in the corner of the room and recognized it; it was as if the lyrics were on the top of his tongue. The quaint ambience of the living room was relaxing. He was surprised he hasn’t felt a sense of danger. If anything, his senses were telling him the opposite; this felt like a safe haven.
He watched as she paced around her apartment, gathering different little medical tools into a bag until she finally plopped down on the sturdy coffee table in front of him.
“I’m gonna cut your shirt off,” She said nonchalantly. His brows furrowed uncomfortably. “You bled through it so I’m assuming I should start there. Or you can lift your arms up to take it off yourself. But I assume that’s not an option so..”
She picked up the scissors and snipped at the air with a facetious smile. He fought back one of his own. Her sweet demeanor was a nice change of pace; it was rare in this city. He hated to admit it to himself, especially after the awful events that happened not even an hour before, but he was utterly intrigued by this woman. She was unlike anyone he’s ever met before.
He pressed his tongue against his cheek, accepting the challenge. She raised her brows and sat back, knowing that it would be nearly impossible to do with the amount of blood on his shirt. He went to lift his arms and hissed in pain, clenching his eyes. When he opened them, he caught her already looking him in the eye with an amused smile.
“You must really like that shirt,” She teased, making him smile slightly. Something about the way she said that reminded him of Gwen. “Do I have your permission to cut it off now?“
He nodded and she got to work. He watched as she cut away carefully. Once she successfully peeled his shirt off, he noticed a small blush arise on her cheeks at the sight of him. He couldn’t help but smile, raising his eyebrows when she looked up at him. She cleared her throat with a small smile of her own before turning away to grab the small medical bag beside her.
Peter found it hard to look away. She wasn’t trying to flirt, but the subconscious coy smile that decorated her features made her irresistible. She played her embarrassment off well, making him even doubt the hint of attraction she just displayed.
“This is going to hurt a little bit,” Her eyes finally met his again. He nodded.
“I think I can candle a little bit of- FUCKEN HELL OW?!” He hissed as the alcohol hit his gash. She scrunched her nose and muttered an apology. “A little bit?!”
“Ahh, I know, I know. I’m sorry! Almost done,” She squinted her eyes with sympathy before finishing off disinfecting the wound to the best of her ability. He sighed in relief when he saw her lean back, watching as she dug through the small bag again.
The woman gathered the materials needed to stitch up the wound, feeling his gaze burn into her as she picked out the respective instruments. She looked up to see that his warm, brown eyes danced all over her face. It was as if he would be forced to draw her features from memory. She couldn’t recall the last time someone had looked at her like that.
“Stop that,” She ordered, looking at him through her eyelashes for a split second before she adjusted herself near the wound. She steadied to hands to begin the procedure.
“Stop what?” He chuckled. His laugh was soft and boyish, making her chuckle and look up at him.
“The staring,” She said as sternly as she could, not quite being able to shake the same coy smile from earlier.
“Ah. I’m sorry,” Peter grinned, looking up. She chuckled at his exaggerated movement before positioning herself once again. She took a breath, glancing up only to catch his eyes on her. He attempted to play it off by looking away.
“I’m serious! I can’t focus with you looking at me like that,” She shook her head, not bothering to move from the perfect position she attained.
“Yeah, no, that was my bad. Sorry,” He drew in his bottom lip in an attempt to stop smiling. His eyes began roaming the room once again, taking in details he hadn’t spotted on first glance. The wall opposite of him was decorated neatly with several small posters; her favorite bands and artists. His lips parted at the sight, taken aback at the similarity in his own music taste. He began listening to the music playing from your record player, it was something he’d never heard before but right up his ally. “I like this song. Who’s playing?”
“Oh, uh, my old band. I played guitar for them throughout high school and part of college. What you’re hearing is our third album I think,” She recalled nonchalantly. He looked at her with wide eyes. “Wait, stop moving. I’m almost done.”
“You expect me not to move after you told me that you’re in a band? That’s so cool!” Peter beamed, making her giggle. “What did you play?”
“Guitar,” She mumbled as she focused on the project at hand. She paused every once and a while to look up and him and further explain. He found himself longing for those beautiful eyes to meet his when she looked back at his ribs; missing them the way one would miss water in a state of dehydration. “We never went anywhere with it though. It kinda just for shits and giggles. We’d play at nightclubs and small venues. But we all hated the idea of becoming famous so we kept it pretty lowkey. I’d hate to be in the public eye. Seems like a lot of pressure.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” He mumbled, making a face. He knew all too well how much pressure it could be. “Did you ever sing?”
“Sometimes,” She mindlessly shared as she finished up the stitches. “Every blue moon, our lead singer would get sick so I’d step in. But I’ve always hated singing in front of people. I honestly don’t know how he did it. He was damn good at it too. He had this personality that completely captivated the audience and this voice that gave us the most unique edge.”
“I can hear that,” He nodded, listening to the soft rock play in the background. A comfortable silence fell upon the two as they listened to the song.
“All done,” She perked up, tossing the tools into a plastic bag. “Are your legs alright? No cuts?”
“You want me to take off my pants too?” Peter raised his brow, making her fumble with the bag in her hand.
“What? No! I mean, not like that. I wouldn’t ask you to-.. You want to borrow a shirt? Let me get you a shirt,” She stuttered, getting up and rushing off as quickly as she spoke. He refrained from laughing as he watched her disappear into what he assumed was her room. “Is a t-shirt alright?!” She called after a moment.
“Yeah, that’s fine!” He spoke up, admiring the room once more. There was a beautiful tapestry to his left and a small TV in front of it. He saw two guitar cases on the floor and smiled at the thought of her playing the instruments inside of them. In front of him, the coffee table was scattered with guitar picks, strings, and music that she’d been writing.
He felt his body healing already; one of the perks of a radioactive spider bite. He leaned forward, wincing a bit as he reached for a piece of music. He couldn’t understand the notes but he found himself in awe of the lyrics. It was about war, loss, and heartbreak. He blinked away the shock, sensing her standing at the doorway.
“I’m not nearly as musical as I seem,” Her soft voice commented, walking towards him to hand him a black t-shirt. He smiled and gently took the shirt from her hands, grazing them ever so slightly as he did. She paused for a second, trying to conceal the fact that her head was spinning at the touch. “I, uh, had one of my old bandmates come over this morning. We were just messing around with this stuff. Before today, I actually hadn’t played in like.. Pft, eight months now?”
“And here I was thinking you were cool,” He teased, making her let out a breathy chuckle. He carefully put on the oversized t-shirt, only now seeing a familiar yellow smiley face. “Okay, I revoke that comment. You like Nirvana?”
“My dad was a big fan of theirs. He actually went to so many of their shows that Kurt knew him by name,” She chuckled. “So when my mom got pregnant, my dad asked the band what my middle name should be. The story goes that they all sat in silence for a minute, watching my dad take a drag off a joint they were all sharing in an alleyway. Then Kurt smiled and said Mary Jane. So my name’s Y/N Mary Jane Y/L/N.”
“M-Mary Jane?” Peter’s breath got caught in his throat. You furrowed your brows.
“Yeah?” You chuckled, taking a seat in front of him again. “My stage name was MJ because I thought it was much cooler than Y/N.“
“Huh,” He mumbled. His mind began racing with thoughts; the experience he had in the multiverse and the other Peters’ lovers. If she was MJ- his MJ, it’d explain the spark; the magnetic and unavoidable chemistry between the two. That would explain why her personality felt like it was made for his and why her presence felt so safe. They were meant for one another; in this life and millions before, during, and after.
“You’ve got a cut on your brow,” Y/N squinted, leaning in to look at the cut. His breath hitched in his throat once more; the faint scent of her shampoo wafted past him. “Want me to start there or on your leg? Because I think your knee is bleeding.“
“I-..” He muttered. How was he supposed to act knowing he was meant to be hers? How was he meant to act casually knowing that a future was already decided on by the fates? His mind raced at the speed of light; far too fast for him to utter a sentence, let alone keep up a conversation. It wasn’t until he saw Y/N’s head tilt slightly that he realized he was gawking. “Legs.”
“Yeah, I can do..” She trailed off. “Are you okay? Do you have a concussion?”
Before he got the chance to respond, she was flashing a small light at his eyes to check.
“I’m fine,” He chuckled.
“What’s your name?” She questioned skeptically as she put the light down.
“Peter,” He smiled. “Peter Parker.”
“What year were you born?”
“1995.”
“Where are you from, Peter Parker?”
“Queens. Want my social security while we’re at it?” He responded, making her roll her eyes.
His name never sounded so sweet before. He liked the way her lips moved as she said his name, it was as if she couldn’t say it without a smile. He especially liked the way her voice slightly jumped up in pitch when she said the first syllable of each word; Peter Parker.
“Okay, smart ass,” She shook her head, putting away the small collection of medical equipment. “You want my help or not?”
“Yes!” He said a little too quickly. Though she only glanced up for a split second, he still spotted the smug look that now painted her face. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m in rapid fire interrogation mode.”
“Right,” She dragged out the word, making him blush slightly as he let out another small chuckle. “Okay, wanna take off your pants so I can have a look at that knee?”
Peter licked his lips, holding back another audacious remark. He began to unbutton his jeans, pausing when he realized Y/N didn’t bother to go to the next room. He simply raised his brows. She looked up from cleaning up the area surrounding her.
“What? Want me to cover my eyes?” She smiled, placing her delicate hands on her face to hide behind them. He chuckled before taking off his shoes and pants, throwing them onto his bag when he was done. He looked down at his underwear and silently thanked his past self for deciding to wear a pair of boxer briefs under his suit today.
“Damn, Parker. Are you taking off your pants or sewing new ones?“ Y/N groaned, slouching for that she could rest her elbows on her thighs.
“I’m done, I’m done,” He chuckled as he sat back down in front of her. She peaked behind her fingers before looking down at his knee. A deep scrape adorned Peter’s leg, a bruise already teasing at the surface around it.
“Shit,” She whispered before looking up at him. “You really got the shit beaten out of you, huh?”
“You have no idea,” He chuckled dryly, looking down. She got the memo and changed the subject.
“This isn’t as bad as your ribs. I think we might be able to get away with cleaning it and wrapping it in gauze,” She said before moving on. Just as the sensation of the alcohol burned into the wound, she found herself empathetically scrunching her nose at the sound of Peter’s groan. “I know, I know. That’s the worst of it, I promise. It’s been a while since I’ve had to do this for someone outside of the hospital setting. I used to have to patch my brother up all of the time as kids. I know a thing or two about patching up the underdog.”
“What makes you think I’m the underdog?” Peter smiled. She giggled softly as she reached back for something. He paid no mind to the object in her small hands; he was utterly captivated by the way she spoke and carried on conversation. Something about it all felt so familiar to him.
“I don’t know,” She shrugged, placing the gauze onto the wound carefully. He noticed the fact that she no longer minded his gaze. In fact, she looked up with every other word to catch glimpse of it. “You don’t give me bad guy vibes.”
“Oh yeah?” He chuckled. “What if I told you was the baddest of all guys?”
“I’d call bullshit,” She deadpanned and motioned over to his backpack with her head. “Bad guys don’t decorate their backpacks with enamel pins.”
“Oh,” He felt his cheeks warm at sight of the SK8R CAT pin he’d recently added to the small collection of dorky pins that adorned the old bag. She let out a breathy chuckle at his reaction. Dear god, that laugh was intoxicating.
“So why’d you stop playing guitar?” He asked lightheartedly, expecting the woman in front of him to light up at the chance to talk about her obvious passion. Much to his surprise, her face fell and hands paused. It took her aback. “Oh shit. I don’t mean to pry-“
“No, no, it’s fine,” She responded quickly before flashing him a small smile. “I just wasn’t expecting the question is all.. Uh, my brother was our lead singer and he died last year. He got into this huge car crash on the way back from my college graduation. After that, the band unanimously decided to put those days behind us. It just wasn’t the same without his vocals, you know? We played one last time at our drummer and bassist’s wedding.”
“I’m so sorry,” He muttered after a moment of silence. He watched Y/N shrug, keeping her eyes down as she finished up the wrapping. “I mean I don’t think I can really relate to the pain of losing a sibling but losing people you love is just..”
“Fucking awful, huh?” She finished, smiling softly as she finally looked back into his eyes. He raised his brows and nodded. “It’s like your whole world crashes and burns yet everyone still goes on. You hate how the real world just continues and refuses to stop to grieve with you. Then you grow to appreciate it being one constant in your life; the city. The sirens and yelling have become this sort of.. comforting white noise that I can’t sleep without? I don’t know.”
“Yeah, no, I actually get that,” He sighed, readjusting slowly into the couch. “I lost both of my parents as a kid and went to live with my aunt and uncle. I got into an argument with them as a teenager and Uncle Ben went looking for me. He got killed that night. Right in front of me actually. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten over it had it not been for my girlfriend.”
“Jesus Christ..” She breathed, feeling her heart sink at the confession. “Peter, I am so sorry. I can’t even imagine.”
“Oh, it was almost ten years ago now. Gwen really helped me process the pain,” He shrugged. “It really helps to have a support system.”
“Is Gwen available for weekly coffee talks?” She smiled. “She sounds incredible.”
“She really was,” He responded softly. Her lips parted, feeling a sinking feeling in her stomach once again. She placed a reassuring hand on his own and squeezed. It took him aback, her touch.
“I’m sorry,” She whispered. She didn’t let her hand linger for too long to his dismay. Though her hands were cold, her touch warmed him to the bone. It was soothing. The fact that she reached for his hand wasn’t what surprised him; it was the comfort that came with it. “Tell you what, let me clean your face up a bit and then I’ll make us some tea. Nothing like trauma dumping over a cup of chamomile tea.”
“Deal,” He nodded, still thinking about the electric touch.
He normally felt a pang of guilt at the thought of moving on from Gwen, shutting down any feeling towards another person. In his past relationships, it was a mental block that ultimately resulted in a breakup. Maybe it was the fact that she would’ve liked Y/N or that it was simply meant to be; but he didn’t feel anything other than a sense of comfort at the thought of being with the woman in front of him.
He couldn’t believe how organic her touch felt or how naturally their personalities blended with one another. Peter could practically felt the universe pushing them together. He was utterly captivated by this woman; the way she spoke, the way she moved. All he wanted was to get to know her in her entirety. He knew this longing all too well. He felt it with Gwen, but it was different with her.
“Ow!” He hissed as she pressed a small alcohol wipe into his brow. “What happened to a warning?”
“I didn’t think you needed one if you literally saw me coming at you with this wipe,” Y/N giggled.
It was only then he realized how close she was. He could feel her warm breath on his nose as she hovered above him. It was electric, the chemistry. Judging by the way her eyes kept wandering to his own, she felt it too.
“All done,” She smiled, pulling away to collect her small mess. He watched intently as she quickly cleaned up before finally getting up to go to the kitchen. “Chamomile alright?”
“Yeah, um, yeah that sounds great actually,” He smiled. “Do you need help with anything?”
“No, I just need you to sit still and heal,” She responded. He lost sight of her as she disappeared behind a wall. “Do you wanna stay the night? This couch pulls out and it’s pretty comfortable. I’d hate to see you walk home in your condition.”
“Oh, I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” He shook his head before grunting as he got up, disobeying her orders; Peter found himself drawn to her. Greater forces were working and it felt as if he had no control over his body. It longed to be in her presence.
“I thought I told you to sit,” Y/N chuckled as she looked over her shoulder to see his silhouette in the doorway. She paused what she was doing to continue the conversation. “And you wouldn’t be. Your welcome expires at 8:00 AM. I have a meeting.”
“A meeting,” He repeated, leaning against the cursed wall that separated them only moment before. “Sounds very professional.”
“It is!” She grinned proudly, turning back around to continue making the promises tea. “I’m a journalist. My boss put me on this Spiderman project a while back.”
“Oh?” Peter asked cautiously. He’d been so caught up in her world that he’d forgotten his reality.
“I’m actually really excited,” She admitted, turning to look at him every so often. “The Daily Bugle has been spreading hate on Spiderman and convincing people that he’s some menace to society. I mean it would take an actual idiot not to see that he’s a hero. Anyways, I have a New York Times column called The Daily Herald dedicated to debunk everything Jameson says.“
“You’re kidding,” Peter deadpanned. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly was not that. It must’ve been a universal MJ trait, rooting for Spiderman.
“Ew, don’t tell me you actually side with that asshole!” She scrunched her nose, making him laugh at the irony.
“No! No! Not at all, I’m just shocked. That’s a pretty cool job is all,” He responded. “What’s the meeting about tomorrow?”
“He saved a little boy today. Everyone thought he was dead but the kiddo pulled through. He’s expected to make a full recovery. I’m interviewing his mother,” Y/N said casually as she grabbed the tea from her cabinet.
“He survived?!” Peter pushed off of the wall with wide eyes.
“Yeah,” She said, turning around to look at him. His tone demanded her attention. “I was shocked too. He-”
“Wait, I’m sorry. The little boy that was held in the air and thrown to the side by The Collector? That kid is the one who survived?!” He questioned, taking a step forward in excitement.
“That’s the one,” She said slowly, narrowing her eyes at his urgent curiosity. She caught a glimpse of his grin before he turned around to go lean on the wall again. A smile of relief. A smile of someone who knew the child.. or of someone who tried to save him. “Huh..”
“What?” He asked, seeing her face change into one of deep thought.
“Oh, nothing,” She pushed the thought away. It was crazy. This dorky, sweet man couldn’t be.. “Just.. It’s nothing. Can you please just go sit down? I don’t know if those stitches can withstand all of this excitement.”
He nodded slowly, wondering what just went through her mind. He hesitated before walking back to the couch. It was only a few moments later that MJ walked in with two cups of tea. He smiled at the one in her left hand.
“Careful, it’s hot,” She mumbled, setting his cup on the table. His eyebrows shot up at the Spiderman mug that was placed in front of him.
“You even have Spiderman merch?” He giggled, picking up the mug to further examine it.
“Okay, before I look like some obsessed fan, let me explain,” She laughed, blushing at his playfulness. “My best friend bought me that when I scored the job. Stop laughing! I mean it’s a small chunky cartoon version of Spiderman! Isn’t it cute?”
“Very cute,” He chuckled, not taking his eyes off of her as she relentlessly defended the cup in his hand. She smiled as she sat down with a mug that read WE ARE HAPPY TO SERVE YOU. “Is there a story behind that mug too?”
“I went to this diner with my brother a couple years ago and said they had cute cups so the idiot decided to steal one,” She smiled, looking at the cup. “Best diner in the city! I’ll have to take you there sometime.”
Peter looked down and chuckled softly. She said it so casually, as if they hadn’t just met an hour prior. The sense of familiarity was mutual. She smiled as she set her brother’s mug down before turning her body to face Peter.
“Thanks for letting me stay the night,” He mirrored her motions. “It’s not every day that I’m exposed to a kindness. It seems like a rarity in this city.”
“Yeah, the people here kinda suck,” She said nonchalantly. Another laugh escaped from his lips. “But it can be nice though. There’s this sense of anonymity, you know? You’re just a number and you can be whoever you want to be.”
“Yeah, definitely. Lonely but nice at times,” He nodded.
“God, it can be so fucking lonely,” She breathed out.
The two got lost in an organic conversation, talking as though they were lifelong friends. She spoke fondly of her childhood, giggling at the memories of her rambunctious brother. He spoke of his adolescence, recalling simpler times with his uncle and Gwen. They kept the chat platonic; besides the teasing and longing looks.
He liked making her blush. It arose to her cheeks the same way the morning sun set; slowly, subtly at first and then all at once. She covered her face with her hands and giggled when she felt it coming on, which baffled Peter. He couldn’t fathom why she would hide such a beautiful face.
The tea was long gone by the time she finally glanced over her shoulder to look at the time. “Oh my god. It’s a lot later that I thought it was. I should probably set up this couch for you.“
“Here, let me help,” Peter offered, getting up to follow through with the promise.
“No, no, no,” She frowned, grabbing his shoulders to gently move him out of the way. It was the first time he stood up straight; he was taller than she imagined. “You just stand here. I don’t want you to tear your stitches that I worked oh-so hard on.”
“Yes ma’am,” He tried to match her stern tone. She playfully rolled her eyes before methodically placing the couch cushions in the corner of the room. He watched her intently with soft eyes. She entranced him with the way she moved. Everything from how her hips swayed to how she gripped the cushions; he observed with eager attention, similar to the way one does when they watch their favorite movie for the first time. He almost didn’t realize that she was struggling to open the futon. “Y/N. You sure you don’t need help?”
She looked up and huffed in defeat, her hair strung amuck.
“So, here’s the thing,” Y/N sighed, standing back up. “I kind of forgot that my friends broke this thing last weekend. I’ve been meaning to get it fixed, but it won’t open. Just take my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“I’m not taking your bed,” He grinned at the absurdity. “I’ll take the couch if you fold it back up.”
“Right. Um,” She hesitated, looking back down at the couch. “I’ll just..”
“You can’t get it to fold up again, can you?”
“Peter, please. Do I look like a complete imbecile? I’ve got this all under control,” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Take the bed. I’ll get this sorted out.”
“I’ll take the bed if you sort it all out in front of me,” He smirked. She pursed her lips.
“Okay! So I can’t get it to fold up again,” She groaned. “I forgot it took three of us to push it back into place last time. I’ll take the floor.”
“No way!” He laughed again.
“Okay.. Then we can sleep together,” She sighed, only realizing how that sounded at the sound of his chuckle. “You know what I mean! Like share the same bed.”
“I’m okay with that,” He responded, feeling his heart speed up at the simple thought of falling asleep next to you.
“Okay,” She nodded, hesitating to walk him to her room. “You’re not like.. secretly a pervert, are you?”
“What?!” Peter laughed. “No, of course not!”
“Okay, I didn’t think so but I just had to ask,” She giggled, walking towards her room. He followed close behind, stopping in his tracks when she paused in the doorway. “Wanna borrow some pajama pants? Or do you prefer to sleep in those tighty whiteys?”
Peter looked down at his white boxer briefs, his jaw dropping offensively. She laughed as she turned back around again and walked towards a small dresser.
“These are not tighty whiteys!” He argued as he followed her into the room. It was incredibly small, but charming nevertheless. She had a bookshelf filled with old books and decorated the walls with vintage paintings. A soft white light lit up the room, giving the room a golden glow. He was surprised at how at home he felt in her apartment. Or maybe it was just the fact that she was there.
“That’s exactly what someone in tighty whiteys would say,” She teased, digging through your closet before tossing him a pair of Star Wars pant bottoms.
“I don’t know what’s worse; tighty whiteys or Star Wars pajamas,” He bit back playfully, slipping into the soft pants. They were obviously meant for men, far too big for her to wear. He hadn’t even thought of the idea that she might be taken; maybe these belonged to a boyfriend. He refrained from asking the question, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.
“So admit it? They’re tighty whiteys?” She laughed, grabbing an old t-shirt and shorts. “And don’t blame me for the nerdy PJs. My brother left them here for whenever he needed to stay the night. He was such a geek. I mean the man was super into math and science and Star Wars.”
“What’s wrong with math and science and Star Wars?” Peter raised a brow as she walked towards the door. She smiled.
“Math is hard. Science is complicated. And Star Wars is beyond bo-“
“Please don’t finish that sentence with boring. You’re actually breaking my heart right now,” He frowned, making her throw her head back in laughter.
“Be right back,” She replied, disappearing behind the door. Peter decided to lie down under the sheets. Once he got comfortable, he looked around at the paintings, admiring the beauty in them. She didn’t strike him as a romantic but the art said otherwise. Quite a few of them were of couples doing mundane things such as walking in the park holding hands or dancing in the kitchen.
“What are you smiling about?” She asked, coming back in wearing the clothes that previously dangled from her arm. He looked over at her for a moment before motioning to the pictures with his head. “Oh, they’re really cool right? I like to go thrifting for vintage pieces. My latest purchase was that old film camera on my bookshelves. I’ve been meaning to fix up for a while now.”
“I might be able to fix it up for you,” He offered as she walked to the other side of the bed. “I love messing with old cameras actually.”
“I might actually have to take you up on that,” She yawned, getting under the covers. Peter bit his lip, resisting the urge to smile. This moment somehow felt like it could be in one of her paintings; a seemingly mundane moment shared by two strangers. One of which was allowing himself to fall for the woman next to him. “Anyways, I’m gonna turn off the light. Feel free to stay as long as you want tomorrow. If you’re not busy, maybe we can grab lunch after my meeting?”
She sounded nervous, as if she had been pondering asking him that for a while. Planning out how to word it and when to say it. He looked over and smiled.
“Only if it’s at that diner you were talking about earlier,” He agreed, speaking in a soft voice. She grinned.
Summary: Gwen Stacy’s best friend is dead. Besides her grief, Gwen has a chance to change her destiny saving Peter.
A/N: Thinking about this since a long ago. I don’t know how many parts is gonna have, just hope it doesn’t suck way too much.
Warnings: idk, this may be pure crap.
Two months. It’s been two months since he died. Twenty minutes before it happened, Gwen Stacy waved him goodbye after their study-date for an important chem exam they were having by the end of the week. Peter Parker crossed the street and turned back to smile at her once more. He wanted a way much more affectionate goodbye but never got the guts to confess to her the way he felt. She knew it anyway because Peter was everything but good keeping secrets. At least, that’s what they all thought.
In two months Ned and Gwen haven’t left Aunt May’s apartment. The woman lost her husband not so long ago, and now her beloved nephew was gone too. Peter made her life meaningful, she repeated on and on, but now everything was nonsense. May didn’t want to be alone and Peter’s best friends didn’t want to let her on her own. Harry Osborn was extremely generous with May, who was in a delicate situation. She got a couple of days off of work that soon became a couple of weeks and then a couple of months. The hospital was going through a financial crisis and couldn’t pay her salary if she couldn’t cover her guards. Harry paid for Peter’s funeral as well. Mary Jane says he does it because he feels guilty. Gwen didn’t know what to think about. Ned never trusted him but was too devastated to think of another thing but Peter and the fact he will never see his best friend again.
Mary Jane and Gwen never talked about Peter. They accorded it a long ago, the two girls were afraid of ruining their friendship if they open up about their feelings for him. Deep inside Gwen thought MJ played with Peter’s feelings for too long, and MJ thought Gwen was way too friendly with her ex-boyfriend. Losing him wasn’t helpful. Bitterness filled them hearts. “If she didn’t give him false hopes maybe Peter would move on”.
“You know this is not good for you Gwen. You need to come clean about how you feel”. Aunt May is a wise person and Gwen knows it, but she was scared and sad and didn’t have the strength to face a fight, not with Mary Jane, or anyone, to be honest. She only wanted to see him once again. It was impossible. Not even in her dreams. May dreamed with Peter once. Ned did a couple of times and remembered him all of the time. Gwen started to forget his face, just two months after he left. She stopped at the framed pictures of him in the apartment and stayed looking at them trying to keep fresh the image of a smiling Peter, or a dork Peter, or a serious Peter. Not the last image of him, not the image of his face covered with bruises, his bleeding mouth, his broken nose. She wanted that smiling Peter back, she needed him.
She went back to where they find him. Spiderman. No mask, tho. Peter Parker. Far from looking like the nice boy from Midtown High. She couldn’t believe it. It makes so much sense now, how many times he risked his own life to save her dad, only getting the police persecution in return. Captain Stacy found him just a couple of blocks away from his own house. He prayed for his daughter to be home, he prayed for her do not see her friend is such state. But destiny is cruel and karma is a bitch. How many times Captain George Stacy cursed on Spiderman’s name in front of Peter and Gwen? Spiderman was Peter Parker. He hated Spiderman but liked Peter far enough to call him son one day in the future. If Gwen has had arrived in her house a couple of minutes before, if she wouldn’t forget her textbooks at the library, maybe she wouldn’t have seen the crime scene, maybe her last memory of him would be he smiling at her from across the street. Not his body surrounded by a pool of his own blood, not his beaten and swollen face.
A tear started rolling down her cheek.Gwen pressed shut her eyes and took a deep breath, wishing it be her last breath. She never thought she would feel this way, but the weight of her loss was way too heavy to carry on.
“Stacy? What are you doing here?” the voice came from behind the trash dump placed at one corner of the alley. She would recognize that voice anywhere, anytime. No, it is not possible, you’re starting to have hallucinations, you got to get out of here Gwen, get your shit together. “Pss, Gwen, I’m here, behind the trash”. Scared the shit out of herself, Gwen started running in the opposite direction, heading to her parent’s house, five blocks away from that goddam alley.
“Oh, hi sweetheart” her mom greeted her from the kitchen. “What happened? you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” she stated once she saw the petrified expression on Gwen’s face. “P-Pe-Peter, mom, I saw Peter”. Mrs. Stacy gave her daughter a confused sight. “Okay Gwen, Peter may be a little paler than others but he’s not a ghost” she joked and turned back to the kitchen. “He came here, by the way. Said something about the exam you have this Friday and left”.
“What you mean by he was here talking about the exam, mom what the fuck!?”
“Language, Miss”.
“Mom if this is one of your jokes, I swear… it’s not funny”.
“No Gwen, why would it be a joke? He was looking for you but you weren’t here and he left because he’s doing the grocery shopping for May. He’s such a sweet and considerate boy. Gwendolyn Maxine Stacy, God knows if you don’t care enough about him another girl will”.
“I don’ feel fine, I’d better go upstairs”.
“Hi Gwen”.
Mrs. Stacy heard her daughter screaming, and make her way upstairs to check if everything was alright.
“Gwen, hija, is everything okay?” Mrs. Stacy asked behind the door. Pressed on the other side, Gwen replied to her mother: “It’s okay ma, it’s just, I, I saw a spider. But it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s not here anymore”.
“Oh, Gwendolyn, for god’s sake you’re eighteen years old, kill the fucking bug”. Mrs. Stacy leaves, shaking her head in disbelief.
“W-what are you doing here!? I thought, I … no, it’s not possible. You’re dead!”
“Yeah, kind of. C’mon babe, help me with these” his face was muddy with dirt and blood. He came closer, putting his hands on her waist and her hips. Gwen, petrified by what she was experiencing, didn’t react to his actions. Not even when he makes the distance between their lips disappear, pecking hers softly, avoiding to add too much pressure to his swollen and bleeding lips.
“What the fuck was that gorgeous?” Peter asked his girlfriend. His eyes traveled from her lips to find her confused sight. “I mean, it wasn’t explicit but I was asking you for some help in the alley” he chuckled, amused by the inexplicable panic expression on Gwen’s face.
“Peter… you’re Spiderman”.
“Uh-huh, yeah, until last time I checked. Are you fine Gwen? Did you hit your head or something?”
“What, when … how have this happened!? Peter think about May! You’re everything to her”.
“Wow, Stacy, chill dude. I’m fine, May’s fine. This… this is the correct thing to do. But now, hand me those pieces of clothing you’ve been stealing from me before your mom enters without knocking the door and sees me with the suit on. Unless you want me to stay without clothes, I wouldn’t complain”.
“Peter! What the fuck, no, stop”. Gwen covered her eyes with her hands when Peter started to take off the Spiderman suit. He laughed at her reaction. It wasn’t the first time he did that in front of her, and he had his underwear on, she definitely had seen him fully naked before. Gwen was acting weird he thought, but it was fun.
“Peter, my mother can’t see you, you have to leave now”.
“Shit, you’re right, I came for you like forty minutes ago, there’s no way I could make my way upstairs without her to notice… That’s why I love you, always thinking about everything”. Peter kissed Gwen once more, this time he didn’t care about his injured face. He grabbed his own clothes from Gwen’s closet and dressed up quickly. “Remember we have this meeting with Mr. Fury in a couple of ours, that’s why I came here in the first place. But is not something I can tell your mom. I mean Hey Mrs. Stacy, can Gwen come with me to an Avengers meeting, nothing serious, just saving New York from another alien invasion, and maybe dick her down at the Avengers tower after that. Ha, I don’t think so. I’ll pick you up at 11. Suit up”.
Suit up? Avengers Tower? DICK HER DOWN!?
“Gweeeeen, MJ is here”.
“It’s okay Elena, I can go upstairs, she must have the headphones on”.
“Fine Chelle, just tell your friend dinner’s on 15 minutes”.
“I’ll do Mrs. Stacy. And thanks again for the invitation”.
Michelle made her way upstairs, always the same, admiring the paintings hanged on the walls. Mrs. Stacy is such a talented artist, how lame it is she secludes herself in her housewife role. Gwen’s room door was partially open, so she entered without knocking.
“Hey, take those off you dumbass” Michelle said playfully kicking her friend who was lying on the floor. As she guessed, Gwen got her headphones on.
“What the f…” Gwen turned around to find a very changed, almost unrecognizable MJ. Gwen sat up and then stand in front of her friend, examining her with curious eyes.
“Mary Jane, what did you do with your hair!?”
“Uh ehrm, I know my hair looks like shit but what the fuck happens to you!? You missed the rehearsal. Gwen if you keep doing this to us we’ll have to find someone else”.
“Rehearsal!? Mary Jane what are you talking about!? All this is so weird. I just saw Peter, he, he came through the window and then left” And he kissed me she thought, but didn’t get the guts to tell MJ.
“Gwen you’re starting to scare me. Okay, Pete came through the window and that’s creepy but he’s Spiderman so, we must get used to it. And yes, this is the third rehearsal you skip. I know you are busy with your superhuman duties and everything but if this is too much for you, we gotta talk about it for what is best for the band”. Michelle tried to calm her friend down, but with every word, Gwen’s confusion grew more and more.
What did she mean with superhuman duties? And since when she knew Peter was Spiderman!? And she didn’t seem surprised or mad at the fact her ex-boyfriend entered her best friend’s room by the window. In fact, she stated it was a common thing. Does Peter visit her in the same way? Does he has clothes in her closet and passionately kiss her before leaving her bedroom by the window? Gwen felt a blinding headache, and the next thing she knew was she collapsed on her bedroom’s floor.
“Yeah, I don’t think she can make it to the meeting tonight. She seems very confused and keeps calling me Mary Jane, I know, weird as fuck. So that’s all Petey, I’ll call you again if we have some news. Good luck with your business. Bye”.
“Oh, look at you Sleeping Beauty. Your charming prince isn’t here yet but he’ll come after the Avengers reunion”.
“Where am I!? Mary Jane!?” Gwen woke up from her little nap in a hospital’s bed. The bright whiteness of the room hurt her eyes, he tried to sit up but her blurred vision and shaking moves told her to stay lay down.
Michelle looked at her friend with preoccupied eyes. “Seriously Gwen, enough with that Mary Jane shit. I’m Michelle, Michelle Jones, your best friend. Remember me?”.
“Michelle Jones?” Gwen mumbled before blacking out again.
“Is she going to be fine?” Peter asked, really worried about his girlfriend state.
“Sure Peter-Man, there’s nothing to be worried about. Stacy’s gonna be fine”.
“Thanks, Mr. Stark. I-I really appreciate what you’re doing for us”. Peter turned his sight to his unconscious girlfriend and Dr. Stephen Strange, placed on the other side of the room stated that she was going to wake up soon.
“Peter, I think you should go and help May comforting her parents. Stephen and I have to talk with Gwendolyn and how weird it would be for George and Elena to find us here? Go, kid.” Peter nodded and did what Tony Stark asked him to do.
“He doesn’t have a clue of what it’s happening,” Tony said with a bit of sadness in his tone.
“Neither she”. Strange examine Gwen’s lost sight. She was still very shocked about everything but started to imagine what was happening. Dr. Stephen Strange presence was only confirming her doubts. But, how?
“Gwen, can you hear us?” Tony grabbed her hand in a fatherly way. He was as worried as Peter, maybe even more. He felt responsible for his web-slingers. May wanted to kill him already, he didn’t want Mr. and Mrs. Stacy to hate him too. “May we have a word?”.
Gwen sat up abruptly. “All this is so weird. I, I want to see Peter, please Mr. Stark”.
“You’ll see our spider friend later. Now we need to talk about what happened in that alley Miss Stacy” Dr. Strange was intimidating, he wanted to go straight to the point. How this Gwen Stacy appeared in this universe and what happened with Spider-Gwen. “You aren’t the Gwen Stacy we know”.
“What are you talking about. Of course, I’m not, I don’t know you”. Gwen felt tired and dizzy, her vision started to get blurry again.
“Calm down Gwen, we know this is too much for you right now, but we need you to tell us why are you here. If you don’t know how did you traveled to this universe at least can you tell us what is happening around there in yours”. Tony was playing the ‘good cop’, trying to gain her trust.
“I don’t know how it happened” Gwen sobbed, memories from the last weeks fill her mind and overwhelmed her spirit. “I stopped by the crime scene on my way home. In my head I recreated the facts, Peter lying dead on his Spiderman suit. Mask off. Surrounded by forensics, my dad was there too”.
“Peter what?!” Tony freaked out, started walking around the white room as a caught lion. When did this happen Gwen? A date, we need the date” he screamed.
“Easy Stark. October 20th. Five blocks away from Gwen’s house”. Stephen gave her a sympathetic smile.”I brought you here”.
“What the hell Strange!?” Tony grabbed Stephen’s shoulders and shook him.
“I’m not entirely sure about it, but someone exchanged our Gwendolyn Stacy, the one with spider powers, for this one. The Gwen Stacy from another universe where Peter Parker is dead”.
“Peter’s okay here, he’s alive, he’s protected by you. I, I don’t have superpowers”. Gwen’s headache and tiredness barely allowed her to keep talking.
“That is another thing I’m not sure about” Strange found Gwen’s phone on the bedside table and made it levitate high enough to guarantee it wouldn’t survive to the fall. Gwen caught it with a web shot.
“Gen Z, you can threaten them with killing their smartphones or their parents and they wouldn’t hesitate”. Strange smirked. “Now we know you have powers, at least since you arrived in this universe”.
“Okay, now I’m as confused as her, Strange. Can you explain what is happening?”
“Peter’s gonna die in a month unless we do something to avoid it. And for some reason, I think the only person who can save him from his destiny is this young lady”.
“October 20th” Tony mumbled, realizing it was, in fact, a couple of weeks to go until Peter’s death date.
“You have to return to your universe Gwen, but first we need to make sure your powers are traveling with you this time”. Those were the last words Gwen heard from Dr. Strange before her eyes fluttered shut once more.
