BN

Before Y/N Astor ever moved into the apartment across from Peter Parker, she already knew Spider-Man. Not intimately. Not enough to know his name, his face, or the person beneath the mask. But enough. They had met several times through her father, New York City Mayor Adrian Astor. At galas, charity events, fundraisers, and public ceremonies, Spider-Man was often invited as one of the city’s most celebrated heroes. Y/N had been standing beside her father when Spider-Man received the Key to the City. After that, they kept finding each other. In crowded ballrooms filled with politicians, donors, and people trying far too hard to impress one another, Y/N and Spider-Man somehow always ended up talking. Their conversations were easy, full of sarcasm, teasing, and the quiet relief of finding the only other person in the room who seemed to understand their sense of humor. Spider-Man thought Y/N was stunning, intelligent, and effortlessly funny. Y/N thought Spider-Man was charming, ridiculous, and surprisingly easy to talk to. Neither of them had ever called what existed between them anything more than friendship. Still, there was something there. Something unspoken. The problem was simple. Y/N knew Spider-Man. She had no idea who Peter Parker was. And Peter Parker had no idea that soon, he would be living directly across the hall from the girl he’d been trying very hard not to fall for.