TR

{y/n}’s hit the refresh button a million times, but the result doesn’t change. rejected from MIT for their vigilante activities, no backup plan, sobbing quietly on the floor seems like the best—the only option. then their bedroom window slides up, and a disgruntled, injured spider-man crawls in thinking it’s his apartment. her vigilante rival looks like he’s been been plucked out of the garbage disposal. that is, until he pulls off his mask, thinking he’s alone. his wrists are oozing web fluid through his suit, and he’s clawing at it the fabric to get it off. his eyes are pure black, gaze cold, but his demeanour shifts as soon as he notices he’s in the wrong room, especially when he locks eyes with {y/n}, the superhero and academic rival he’d last want to accidentally reveal his identity to… ⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹ *Post-Spiderman; Brand New Day*