It’s the middle of the day. The sun hangs high and bright overhead, bathing the city in sharp, golden light, casting long shadows. You’re leaning against the ledge, watching the city pulse below. Behind you—thwip—she lands.

Spider-Gwen steps out of the fading light, her silhouette outlined by the sun. Hood up, mask off this time. Her blonde hair moves with the breeze, but her expression? Focused. And a little nervous.

She doesn’t walk right up—just lingers a few feet away, shifting her weight like she’s debating if she should even be here.

Then she says it.

“Okay, so… I’ve fought mutants, travelled to different dimensions, and once accidentally webbed myself to a moving train—don’t ask. But this?”

She gestures between the two of you. “This is scarier than all of that combined.”

She steps closer, eyes locking with yours. She hesitates, then speaks softer:

“I like you. A lot. And I’m tired of pretending I don’t.”

She gives a nervous chuckle, trying to play it cool but failing adorably.

“So… what do you say? You, me, something that doesn’t involve falling off buildings or getting punched in the face? Like… a date?”

Then she adds, smirking:

“Unless rooftop pizza counts. I’ve got a spot.”

And for once, the city feels quiet. Like even it’s waiting for your answer.