#arcade/mj coded

[rynhaswritersblock]

midtown morning announcements | p.p.

a/n: in this story YOU are a reporter in the announcements and betty is NOT!!!!! sorry betty love you bae <3

summary: as a reporter for midtown tech's daily announcements, it's easy to get carried away with ideas. especially ones involving the newest superhero from queens.

warnings: cussing, some chaotic energy, 5.6k words because i POPPED OFF, messy epilogue but just roll w me

+ + +

"Oh my god, she's crushing on Spider-Man."

You tried. You really tried. Sure, you were friends with Betty and Liz, but god, if some of their conversations didn't make you want to scream.

Nevertheless, you whirl around. The statement was too absurd for you not to. Liz, the pretty, popular girl, had a crush on a hero whom she'd never seen the face of.

Now that was a story.

You spin back around, snatching the book out of MJ's hands and ignoring the look she gives you.

"How soon do you think I can convince Mr. Harrington to give me an extra segment in the announcements?"

+ + +

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but I just don't think there's enough time to-"

"Mr. Harrington, please," you plead. "We can cut the segment about.. what's it called? What's New in the Teacher's Lounge? Trust me when I say this: talking about the new coffee filters and low stock in the vending machines only loses everyone's attention."

A sigh falls from the mans mouth. He scratches his beard thoughtfully and you bite back a grin at his dramatically thoughtful expression.

"Okay, fine, Madam Reporter. You can have your segment on Spandex Man," he says.

A smile pulls the corners of your lips. "Thank you, Mr. Harrington, you won't regret it."

He just nods his head, an awkward silence filling between the two of you. He eventually catches the hint and turns around, beginning to walk away, muttering.

"I swear, teenage girls and their obsession with men in tight clothing."

Your eyes widen and your face explodes into an expression of defense before you turn around, face-to-face with MJ.

"So?"

"I got it."

A smirk breaks on the girls face. "Ready to shoot?"

Your eyes widen and move over to the wall of the reporting room, the clock reading 7:29 am. One minute before filming time. You look back at MJ and shrug hopelessly, jogging over to the setup in front of the cameras and sliding in next to Jason.

"Hey, Y/N-"

"We're cutting the teacher's lounge segment and I'm replacing it with a different one," you blurt, then turn to the camera as the red light turns on and begins blinking.

"Wha- Good morning, students of Midtown Tech!"

You suppress a laugh.

"Today is Wednesday, September 21st. Happy Fall," you smile. While you were never anxious in front of the camera, you were completely unprepared. The change in segments was made literally two minutes ago, and the only ones with that knowledge were you, MJ, and (kind of) Jason. Thankfully, MJ was a quick scriptwriter, but this was something you wanted to make perfect. Your perfectionism wasn't easily controlled, and with a new segment like this, you wanted to make it just right.

You and Jason swapped reporting different details about events, the weather- the sort of stuff a lot of students didn't really care about. But, as soon as you saw the words "Y/N: INTO SPIDER-MAN SEGMENT" on the screen, you knew this would grab everyone's attention. You also knew that you would kick MJ later for not even giving you a script when you knew she was capable of at least writing a few things.

"Ohhhh-" Jason gasps, understanding what you'd meant earlier. You hit him in the arm before mentally preparing yourself as quickly as possible.

"Word about the new hero, known as Spider-Man, has taken over Midtown Tech, and everyone seems to have the same question: who is the man under the mask? Well, Tigers, I've decided to take it upon myself to discover this upcoming Avenger's identity. In this segment, you'll see interviews and videos of the hero, as well as a link in which you can scan a QR code on the screen and submit guesses, and later vote on who you think it is!"

"Yo, that's dope," Jason nods, looking at you, impressed and surprised.

"It is," you smile at the camera. "Now onto Cindy, who is with the Mr. Harrington to talk about the importance of, um, kissing your pets at least 10 times daily..?"

The filming session wraps with you and Jason doing your signature sign-off (putting on sunglasses and playing Midtown's anthem on kazoo's). You slide out of the chair, setting your glasses on the table behind you and walking over to MJ with a sigh.

"Dude, what the hell?"

"Hey man, you did fine without a script," she retorts, raising her hands in defense.

"I'm aware," you raise a brow.

From across the room, you can hear the editors grouping around the computer, laughing at all the memes and sound effects they're gonna put in.

+ + +

Not good. Not good not good not good not good.

Peter Parker stood frozen, feet away from one of the multiple TVs in the hallway, jaw slack as he stares at the screen.

Not even the chaotic memes and crappy video effects could make him laugh (the boy had a weak spot for Comic Sans).

He knew who you were. Peter'd occasionally see you in the hallways, and you'd always smile or even just give him a small look of acknowledgment. Still, never talked. Which, now that he thought about it, was probably a good thing. The second you figure out Spider-Man's voice, it'll be engraved into your brain, and there'll be no hiding if you approach him.

"Hey, Peter!"

The boy jumps, spinning around to see Ned, about 20 feet away, bright smile painted on his face as he waves a bit aggressively. Peter mentally prepares himself before walking over, plastering a (hopefully convincing) grin on his face. Ned, of course, is oblivious and falls for it.

"Dude, did you watch the announcements today?! That shit is crazy! I mean, Y/N's so smart and stuff, she's probably gonna figure out who it is in, like, two weeks," Ned babbles.

Peter looks around cautiously, feeling as though all eyes are on him, despite the fact that he was most definitely on the bottom half of the popularity list.

"Yeah, weird."

Just then, he sees you turn around the corner with MJ, waving to someone he didn't know, and catches a smile on your face.

His prior neutral opinion about you began to shift.

+ + +

By the end of the day, you were practically floating. The entire school was buzzing about the new segment- hell, it almost creeped you out how excited everyone was. At lunch, people couldn't stop glancing over at you, whispering about who they thought Spider-Man might be. At first, the looks were different, interesting, but now they just made you plain uncomfortable. Nonetheless, when you stepped outside after the final bell and everyone's mind shifted from the segment to the idea of getting home, you felt proud.

And, although the two of you were apart, both in terms of distance and relationship, you and Peter felt the same feeling as you flopped onto your respective beds in your respective apartments:

You now had the weight of the world on your shoulders.

+ + +

The FBI agent in your phone was probably terrified. You went from being an average, phone-using teen, to being a complete stalker, notes and news apps taking over your storage- all to make sure you'd never miss a story. Moreover, you'd done all this within the last two hours.

With the exponentially rising expectations from your classmates, you made a promise to yourself that you wouldn't let anyone down. That started today: the day of the Spider-Man's Secrets debut.

Just as you lay back on your bed, back sore, you come to the realization that all of these precautionary apps would only give you the scoop after the incident. AKA: not soon enough. You groan, rolling off your bed and slipping on your shoes, grabbing your keys and making your way out of the apartment.

While hadn't necessarily wished to be walking through the streets of Queens as the sky darkened, part of it was kind of peaceful. If you ignored your paranoid thoughts.

Nonetheless, you thought, if you were to get attacked, the man of the day would show up, right?

A sigh falls from your lips as you round the corner, figuring you'd go to Delmar's and get a sandwich. And pet Murph.

Your plans are foiled when you stop in your tracks at the sight of Spider-Man battling some robbers in the bank. Even though your eyes widened, you let out a small laugh- the robbers were wearing Avengers masks. How nice for Tony Stark's image.

The whole situation looked like one of those weird money-tornado things you'd seen at arcades. You rip your phone out of your pocket and begin recording just as a purple beam shoots out of the bank, streaming in a haphazard circular shape and nearly hitting you. A yelp elicits from your mouth as you duck. When you rise, the robbers are gone, and Delmar's is on fire.

"Holy shit," you gasp, checking to make sure your phone is still recording.

You felt a little stupid as you ran over to the building, phone in the air like a goddamn touristic maniac.

"Ma'am, I'm gonna need you to get out of the way, it's-"

You feel a pair of hands wrap around your waist, pulling you back. You begin to wriggle out of the grasp before you turn your head and meet eyes with Spider-Man. The large white eyes of the mask widen, as do yours.

"It's, um," he clears his throat, lowering his voice and using a Jersey accent, "too dangerous."

In a flash, he's gone, leaping through the broken window and yelling for Mr. Delmar, voice back to its high state. You're stunned, not having expected to have gotten that lucky on your first night, as well as from the state of the building you had loved so much. You stay there, standing at the edge of the sidewalk, chewing nervously on your nails as you wait for Spider-Man to run back out, hopefully with Mr. Delmar and Murph.

You had a job to do.

A relieved sigh leaves your lungs at the sight of the hero helping Mr. Delmar out, handing him Murph with such a careful and cautious demeanor that gives the hero so much humanistic personality that it practically knocks you out.

You knew you were one to notice body language, but watching someone without being able to see their face only amplified them. You watch silently as Spider-Man hangs his head as he walks away from the scene, looking tired, ashamed almost. People begin gathering around the building, videoing and a few going over to Mr. Delmar and lending him support. A ping of guilt rings through your veins before you remind yourself of your job.

"Excuse me?"

He stops, turning around. Reporters begin pulling up in large news vans.

"I have a few questions."

+ + +

The only time you'd ever flown was at the airport. Or in your dreams. But never this way.

Your heart was still racing, despite having landed on the roof of some building almost a full sixty seconds ago.

"Sorry, but could we hurry this up? I kinda, uh, need to get home," he says, hints of paranoia lacing his words.

"Yeah, sorry, just, you know, have never swung on a fucking web multiple stories up before," you nod, pursing your lips and instantly regretting your harshness. "Sorry."

He nods. You pull up the voice recorder app on your phone and hit the button. A rush of awkwardness hits you.

"So, uh, Spider-Man: tell me about yourself."

"Well," he scratches the back of his neck nervously. His voice is deep, with that same rich Jerseyan accent. You don't buy it at all. "I'm, well, I'm Spider-Man. I like.. helping... people?"

"Uh, yes-" you blurt, nodding your head. You didn't want to completely bombard him, you wanted to just intro him and get some exclusive information. "How did you get your powers?"

He goes on to explain that he was bitten by a radioactive spider. Luckily for you, he goes off on a tangent, ranting about how weird it was and what exactly his powers were. You smile every time you notice his accent and deep voice slip into something that sounded more natural- higher, but natural.

Based off of the hints of his voice alone, you'd guess he was anywhere from 12-18 years old.

"And then I would wear like super big shirts to school to try and hide it because I didn't want to look suspiciously stronger--"

"School?" you interrupt.

"Oh, uh.. yeahhhumIgottago!" he blurts before awkwardly backing up, jumping off the building and swinging away.

A smile creeps onto your face. Enough to satisfy your classmates.

+ + +

"Luckily, I was able to catch the hero right after the incident, and he swung me with him to the top of a building for privacy from other news stations and police officers," you smile, ignoring how Jason was bouncing excitedly next to you, eager for information. He was a prime example of the excitement going on around the school.

"Spider-Man received his powers from a bite from a radioactive spider, and gained his new skills over night. Reportedly, he woke up with defined and large muscles, giving him the physique you can catch while he swings by. He has super senses that can detect any form of danger, 'sticky' hands and feet, and crafts his own webs that have been incorporated into his suit, given to him by Tony Stark, aka Iron Man. Here's a vocal clip from our interview!"

Normally, the sound of the announcements would be substantially muffled by the sounds of kids moving everywhere and chattering, but not anymore. Now, students grouped around the TVs, whispering. Peter had tried so hard to ignore your voice while not seeming suspicious.

But, as soon as he heard his own voice through the speakers, the announcements had his full attention.

He was relieved that you'd used a clip in which he'd been lowering his voice and using an accent, but there was a second in there where your masked voice slipped. Not good.

The boy suffered through the school day, ignoring the gossip of students, including Ned. Not to mention MJ suspiciously eyeing him during lunch. Either she had a crush, or she knew something. Peter suspected the latter.

As soon as the bell rang, he darted out of the doors, going to his usual hiding spot and changing, swinging as quickly as he could to the Stark Tower. The boy landed at the front steps, bending over and panting for a second before mustering up more energy and running up to the door, ringing the buzzer as many times as he could.

"Welcome to Stark Tower," F.R.I.D.A.Y. said, monotone. "Identification, please."

"Peter Parker," he pants, pulling up his mask and looking into the camera.

"Unknown identity. Access denied."

A buzzer rang off and the boy frowned.

"Let him in, F.R.I.," Tony yells from inside, walking over and opening the doors. "Hey, Pete."

"Hi, Mr. Stark. Why wouldn't it let me in?"

The two walk into the main entrance.

"No reason."

"What?"

"I just have a different name for you in the program, that's all. If the name doesn't match the face, the doors don't open."

"What name do you have for me, then?"

Tony sighs, hints of mischievousness in his eyes. "Underoos. Can't believe you wouldn't think of that."

"Got it, sorry," Peter nods, clutching the mask in his hand. "I need you to put a voice changer in my suit."

+ + +

You were starting to get a bit worried. Spider-Man had started using a voice changer in his suit, and when you asked about it, he said he'd heard about you using his voice in a school announcement, and he needed to maintain anonymity.

Of course, this had taken a toll on you.

Not only did it lessen your chances of figuring out who this kid was, but it made you feel bad. After all, you were disrespecting a hero's privacy, trying to expose them to a mass of teenagers. And all he was doing was trying to protect the very place you lived in.

You'd managed to catch him at just about every incident he'd been in, but each time, he got less and less open about everything. You were running out of questions that you deemed fairly respectful, and he became very closed off, and for good reason.

If you exposed him, he'd be much more susceptible to attackers, who'd then be able to hurt the people he loved. You sigh as you begin your walk home from school, wracking your brain for more questions. You'd dug yourself into some deep shit.

A flash of red and blue pulls you out of your thoughts.

"Spider-Man!" you yell, eyes widening when you notice a few people look at you and then divert their attention to him, gasping. You mutter a profanity before jogging over to where he'd landed on top of a traffic light. "I have a few questions."

"Yeah, of course you do."

As if the deep and robotic voice wasn't cold enough already. You hear a loud sigh at your perplexed expression, and before you know it, you were flying again, landing a bit harshly on the roof of another building.

"Ouch, okay."

"Sorry," you hear him mutter. "Off the record?"

You nod and watch as he presses a button on his wrist.

"Look-"

A smile begins creeping on your face at the sound of his normal voice, but you bite it back.

"- I don't know why you're doing this. What I do know, though, is that you're trying to expose my identity to a large group of highschoolers. Do you realize how much trouble that could cause me, Y/N? I mean-"

"Shut up-" you interrupt harshly. "You know my name?"

"What? No, I, uh-"

"You just said my name."

"It was a wild guess!"

"The fuck do you mean a wild guess?! Do you go to Midtown?"

Even the mask can't hide his panic. Holy shit.

"Look: exposing me would literally ruin my life. I need you to shut this down. All of it."

"I would if I could," you say, exasperatedly. "I don't know whether you go to my school or you somehow stalked me and found my name, but: I'm a reporter for the Midtown Tech daily morning announcements. I made a promise to my classmates that, given the craze about you, I'd try and discover your identity. It blew up, way more than I expected. I have the weight of the world on my shoulders now; I can't give this up! Everyday, at least one person comes up to me and asks about you."

"You do realize that, by exposing me, you'd cause more trouble than by just letting it go?"

You're silent for a moment. He's right.

"I'll figure something out."

+ + +

"Yesterday, when I approached him yesterday, Spider-Man swung us onto another rooftop for another private discussion, in which he answered more questions."

Lying stung you like a bitch. Off the record, you remember.

"The hero claims that he's working on becoming an Avenger, training with the current members so that he can be on the team. Unfortunately, that's all he was able to tell me last evening, as he claimed he had something to do and swung away."

You sigh when the red light turns off, slipping out of your chair and over to where MJ sat. You grabbed your bag and began walking away.

"Was all of that true?" she asks as she follows you out. You nod. "You sure? Because something was off about it."

"It's all true, MJ, I'm just tired."

Peter's face was scrunched up, confused as he watched you on the screen, explaining about Spider-Man's supposed plans to join the Avengers. And then it clicked.

You were actually helping him.

After everything that'd happened, he'd half expected you to just full out expose him. To take your assumptions and spill them all over the school, telling everyone that Spider-Man was a student at Midtown Tech who knew your name. Peter hated how good at correctly assuming you were.

Thankfully, though, everyone bought it.

"Yo, did you hear that?"

"Hmm?" the boy hums, raising his eyebrows and looking over at Ned.

"Spider-Man's going to be an Avenger!"

"Yeah, that's, uh, that's really cool," Peter smiles, trying to match Ned's optimism. The smile drops slightly when he sees you walk past.

+ + +

You found a loophole. Upon reading all the comments on your Spider-Man link from announcements, you decided to start interviewing random students to get the content you needed.

All throughout lunch, you'd been pulling kids aside- Cindy, Liz, Betty, Flash. A sigh falls from your mouth as Flash walks away (with a bit too much pride for having just gushed about the hero), and you look around the cafeteria for more people.

You meet eyes with Peter Parker.

"Peter," you call, waving him over.

He mutters a word May wouldn't approve of, patting Ned on the back before trying to mentally crush his anxiety. He begins to sweat.

"Can I interview you for my segment on the morning announcements?"

All he does is give you a slight smile and nods. You knew Peter was quiet, but you'd think he'd be a bit less cold.

"So, Peter, have any guesses as to who Spider-Man may be?"

He was trapped. The boy stood in front of you, silent, mouth slightly ajar.

"Peter?"

"I don't know," he blurts. You freeze.

"What was that?"

He trips over his words. "Oh, uh, nothing, I didn't-"

"Holy shit," you whisper. You could've been making a complete fool of yourself acting so dumbstruck, but you'd be damned if you didn't just crack the code.

"Y/N, I-"

"So, Peter," you clear your throat, giving him a look. "Who do you think it is?"

"Flash."

An ungodly-sounding laugh bubbles out of your chest, causing him to laugh too. The two of you share a knowing look.  

"Thank you for your response."

+ + +

You hated the dark. It always made you paranoid. And, while the lights from all the stores and streetlamps helped, it wasn't the same as daylight. Anything could happen in New York.

You also hated how right you were about that.

You were on your way back from doing some brainstorming about how you'd continue the segment at Delmar's when you heard a rustle in the bushes. While it was your stereotypical horror movie sound, it still creeped you out. You couldn't out-walk it, though. A pair of hands wrapped around your body and began pulling you backwards.

Shit.

A loud yelp elicits from your mouth before a hand wraps around it too, and you try to wriggle out of the strong grasp. You manage to get a hand free, wrapping it around their wrist and twisting it off of your face before spinning around, meeting a dark pair of eyes underneath a generic "robber" mask.

"HELP," you yell, kneeing the guy in his crotch, finally freeing yourself as he falls to the ground. You'd never run so fast. The sound of footsteps behind you gets closer, but stops with the sound of hard impact and a groan. You stop and turn around.

Spider-Man is there, giving the guy a final punch in the jaw before webbing him to the wall and backing up, pressing a few buttons on his suit before looking up at you.

"How predictable and cliche," you sigh, rubbing your arm.

The sound of sirens begins wailing in the distance.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think so-"

"Here," he says, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you to a rooftop, coincidentally, the one belonging to your apartment building.

"You sure have a knack for swinging me onto rooftops, don't you?"

"There's never anyone on them, so," he shrugs. You smile slightly- his voice masker is off. You were right.

You walk over to the edge, sitting down and dangling your legs over the edge. He joins you.

"Hey, um, if you could maybe not-"

"Don't worry, Peter. I won't," you say, looking over at him reassuringly. He sighs.

"Guess I can take this off now."

You watch as he pulls off the mask, taking a deep breath and shaking out his curls. You don't let yourself stare and instead just smile, looking down beneath the two of you.

"That's my apartment," you point down, slightly to the right at the fire escape.

He looks up at you in surprise and the wind gets knocked out of you. You'd never seen Peter Parker the way you did right now. He'd always been this mellow kid, yeah, cute, but sort of... in the background. A nerd (but that wasn't a bad thing). Now, though, he was in his element. The moon hitting him just right, his curls messy from his mask. He wasn't afraid of being judged because nobody was around, and he was wearing a suit that made him who he always wanted to be: a hero.

"No way! My apartment is literally right across from yours!" he says, excitement and facial expressions reminding you of a puppy. He pointed his window out, and sure enough, it was just about right across from yours as far as you could tell.

You don't know what to say, so you just smile instead, letting a little laugh out.

"So, uh," you breathe, "I'm not sure exactly what I'm gonna do about the whole Spider-Man's Secrets thing, but I won't expose you."

"Thank you," Peter sighs, voice accompanied with relief and a crooked smile.

"Maybe I can tell everyone that you're just too good. Like, you've got titanium walls all around you."

"Heh, yeah."

He looks over at you and smiles.

+ + +

EPILOGUE - NOTE:: some of the details of this may not make complete sense, nor line up with the plot of the movie in which this takes place. the point still gets across, so please don't make any rude comments lol- i did the best i could!

"I managed to send the Elemental back into the dimensional rift, but I don't think I'm gonna make it off this bridge alive. Spider-Man attacked me for some reason. He has an army of weaponized drones, Stark technology. He's saying he's the only one who's gonna be the new Iron Man, no one else."

"What the fuck?" you mutter. Peter would never say that.

You gasp at the video. Sure enough, Peter's standing there, confirming a fatal drone attack. Screams ring off in the distance and you practically choke.

"There you have it, folks. Conclusive proof that Spider-Man was responsible for the brutal murder of Mysterio!"

You sneer at the screen, the sight of J.J. Jameson making you angry. That man always got angry over the smallest things. You get on your phone to text Peter but stop. More footage from Mysterio begins playing.

"Spider-Man's real... Spider-Man's real name is... Spider-Man's name is Peter Parker," he chokes out.

You jump as Peter's school picture fills your TV screen.

"Holy fucking shit," you mutter, heart racing.

This is not right.

+ + +

He didn't answer you at all. None of your texts, none of your calls. Hell, you almost went over to his apartment, but you didn't remember his new address, since he and May moved after the Blip.

The two of you had become extremely close ever since you'd found out his identity, hanging out whenever you could. It was beyond unlike him to not answer you.

You sprinted into the news room. It was less than 24 hours after Peter had been exposed, and he was everywhere. Social media, news stations; hell, his picture was all over Times Square. And everything they were saying was all wrong.

"Mr. Harrington!"

The man spins around, startled.

"Oh! Good morning, Y/N-"

"I need you to start taping right now. Abe! You know how to hack, right? Broadcast this all over Times Square and every news station you can," you pant. The kid sits up in his seat, brushing Pop Tart crumbs off of his jeans and nodding with a smile.

"What is this all about?" Mr. Harrington asks as he moves over to the camera, cautious.

"You'll see."

You sigh as you sit in your seat, looking over at Abe. It takes a minute, but as soon as he gives a thumbs up, Mr. Harrington hits record.

"Hi. My name is Y/N L/N, and I am a student of Midtown School of Science and Technology, as well as a reporter for our daily announcements and an affiliate of Peter Parker. As I'm sure you all know, it was reported yesterday by the Daily Bugle that Spider-Man's secret identity is a boy named Peter Parker, and that Spider-Man is a so-called 'selfish murderer.' Well, I'm here to tell you that none of this is true. I know, I'm just a highschooler, but having to write several research papers for this school has taught me how to provide a statement with legitimate backup. That's what I'm here to do today.

"Mysterio, who's real name is Quentin Beck, was introduced to the world as a hero, fighting off creatures called Elementals that wrecked havoc throughout Europe. When one of these Elementals reached London, the footage shown yesterday was of Spider-Man and Mysterio on the London Bridge amidst chaos. Not only was that video altered to turn the blame on Spider-Man, but a creature called a Skrull is actually Spider-Man. Upon speaking with the head of SHIELD, I was given information on these creatures- they can shapeshift into whatever they want to be, as long as they've seen the organism before.

"Now, how do I know all this? One: after doing some light research on Quentin Beck, I discovered that he'd been fired from Stark industries in the past for his controlling and manipulative behavior. That'd explain his reasoning and desire for power. Two: upon asking a classmate of mine- who's an absolute prodigy in the field of computer technology and video- to review the given footage, they were able to find two small glitches in the footage that revealed the real video underneath, and further, unmask it completely. Abe, the video should be in your inbox. Pull it up and broadcast it, please."

You let out a deep sigh as you hear typing, then the sound of the real video.

"EDITH, turn off the drones."

The video clip finishes and the camera focus returns to you. "Now, I don't have complete proof on me about the identity claim I've made. But, as soon as the head of SHIELD gets back to me, I can prove it. What you do have confirmed, though, is that Mysterio was the problem. Spider-Man did nothing, other than do what was best for the safety of others. I have all the evidence lined up for you, and it's up to you to believe it. A message for you, Mysterio- if you're still alive- and your affiliates: don't mess with kids from Midtown Tech. We know what Spider-Man stands for, and so does the rest of the world. Trying to mess up his reputation from the grave doesn't help anyone. Sincerely, Y/N L/N and the students of Midtown Tech. As well as Peter Parker, who feels pretty attacked right now for no good reason. Have a great day!"

You smile into the camera before Mr. Harrington turns it off. You hadn't noticed them come in, but everyone on the news team had come into the room, all of them silent, dumbstruck. And then they started clapping.

You give them a tired nod and grin before grabbing your bag, saying hi to MJ and walking out. Thankfully, school hadn't started yet, but students were starting to arrive. You enter the bathroom and stare into the mirror, hoping you didn't just fuck everything up even more.

Your phone buzzes and Peter's contact picture (one of him in Hello Kitty pajamas, sticking his tongue out at the camera) fills your screen. You hurriedly answer.

"Peter! Where are you? Are you okay?"

"Janitors closet, 300 hall. Knock when you're here."

Butterflies flutter through your body as you run through the hallway, ignoring the weird looks from the couple that always shows up early to makeout against the lockers. You find the closet and knock, looking around to make sure nobody could see. The door opens and a hand wraps around your wrist, dragging you inside.

You gasp, balancing yourself, and Peter shuts the door behind you.

His appearance surprises you. He's the face of depression and hopelessness. Dark bags fill the space beneath his eyes, which are red from tears. The look makes you hate the world.

"Are you okay?"

"I am now," he breathes. "the news is buzzing about what you did. They got confirmation from Nick about what you said and, sure enough, every news station is broadcasting your claims with full evidence. Everyone's believing it and apologizing. Thank you."

You smile weakly and wrap your arms around him. "I did what I had to do."

"I don't know what I'd do without you," he mutters into the crook of your neck. The scent of your perfume makes him feel all tingly inside, the softness of your skin making him never want to stop holding you. You felt the same way.

"Ditto."

+ + +

akdjxfbavdgkjnwrjk i hope you guys enjoyed !!!!! tbh i'm not sure how to feel about this imagine lol

[theadorablespderman]

To Glory

Description: The score at Laser tag is neck and neck. With Peter's quick reflexes, the boy's are sure to win. That is, until Michelle decides to play dirty.

Spideychelle

f/m

Oneshot

Notes: Hey guys, here’s a little gift for the fourth even though it has nothing to do with the 4th of July! But yeah here you go, this was a prompt request on Ao3. Prompt: Take me laser tagging then push me into a corner, shoot me, and run away. 

Also thanks to my fantastic beta @you-guys--are-losers

This was so fun to write and I hope you guys like it too! I loved doing it and I’m always accepting prompt requests if anyone has any! Also look out for an announcement later today about a possible new story! Love you guys and enjoy!

Peter’s team was winning.

Crossfire of red and green lasers assaulted Peter’s vision. He rolled away from the steady neon glow of a wall he’d taken cover behind as soundless lasers scattered around him in a frenzy. He could feel the coiling madness of competition urging him forward.  

Peter’s best friend was pinned down a few yards away, crouched behind a sickly green alien statue. Ned’s arm was crooked around the statue’s base. He was blindly firing his gun, so not to risk shots hitting his vest. Red lightning from the room flashed across Ned’s body. Peter looked up, acutely aware that he was exposed to the room, as saw two figures curled around a pulsing wall. One burst of the light momentarily illuminated one of the figures. Sleek black hair turned purple in the light. A face of pure determination. Cindy. Peter couldn’t make out her companion before the figure rolled away.

Light flared in Peter’s vision, rendering him blind as he sprinted behind cover. Kitschy toxic waste barrels bit into his back.

There was the acute feeling of static, electricity a current of warning under his skin. Peter flung his head around, catching a lithe figure attempting to sneak up on him. A surge of anxiety filled him. He barely dodged the laser to his chest. The artificial sound—like a phasor—as it issued from the gun urged Peter to fire his own. The red lights of the vest lit up, turning white before flashing three times. There, he saw the face of MJ before her vest went completely black to the room. “I swear to God I’m gonna get you back.” In the storm of lasers and the room’s flashing lights, Michelle’s silhouette was gone.

Peter guessed he deserved that. He’d killed her—including everyone else on her team—several times. The girls-versus-boys match was close, but Peter had to admit he was keeping them afloat.

Peter rolled closer to Ned--now merely a silhouette, as MJ had been--still pinned against the alien statue. Finding cover close to the wall, Peter managed to stay out of the black lights. His shoes were offending white sneakers he’d been stupid enough to wear today.

Ned’s vest flashed, three times white. Peter dropped to the floor. Red lasers scanned nearby. Ned was feet away.

The bored voice of the laser-tag official boomed over the speakers. “Red team takes the lead.” Every light in the room flashed bright red before dying back into the mixture of flashing rhythm they’d had before. Ned’s ‘death’ had put the girls barely ahead of the boys.

On the balcony above, there was a concussive pounding. Feet beating the metal grating. It could be Abe, Flash, or any member of the girl’s team. The pounding faded away. The blood in Peter’s ears was thrumming, they had to get back ahead.

Alert eyes, barely glinting with light, stared at Peter. Diving against an adjacent wall to the statue, Peter dodged another burst of laser-fire. Two quick shots out and Peter watched two vests flash white. One on the balcony, one of the ground level, right in the middle of the floor. From the frustrated growl, he assumed the latter had been MJ. Something akin to smugness swelled in his chest.

“Team Green takes the lead.” The lights blared green. Died away into chaos again.

“Leave me!” Ned cried. “I’ve got guns on me from all angles!” The point meter on Ned’s chest was low. Peter assumed he’d been stuck here for most of the game.

Snatching Ned’s vest, Peter pulled him close, imagining this was battle. The clunky laser guns in their hands morphed into rifles. The pinging and swishing sounds bouncing across the room turned to gun fire. The damp smell of a dingy arcade morphed into the balmy smell of sweat and tears. Peter unleashed his determination onto his friend. “I’m getting you out of here! No man left behind!” With a firm shake, and a spattering of more laser fire, Ned nodded.

“Stay behind me. I’ll get you out! Most of the girls congregated on the upper deck. If we can get—” Another set of fire. Peter fired around the statue, catching the flash of a vest in his sights. Three staccato flashes of white light. A curse on the balcony that sounded like Cindy. Peter and Ned’s corner was suddenly no longer assaulted by light. “Go!” Peter yelled. He rolled out across the worn black carpeting. Landing on his feet, he darted a safe distance to a plastic wall of slime, seemingly oozing from the balcony above.  

A tremble forced its way through Peter’s bones, alerting his senses. Ducking, Peter barely evaded a laser headed straight for his heart. He called out to Ned, who in turn set a shaky few shots in the direction of a gun poking around a glowing pillar. It turned from blue to orange. No white light.

Ned, electing not to copy Peter’s somersault away from the alien, merely ducked and ran. They both ended up backing a large slime wall. Holes in the slime gave Peter a look at their attacker.

Glowing pink in the lights, her face turning then a vibrant blue, was Betty Brant. Her gun was at the ready, yet she wasn’t shooting. It looked like she was waiting. Lights burst on the balcony. Green and red beams clashed in the air. Someone shouted. It sounded like Flash.

Over the roaring sounds, there was Abe’s voice. It cracked in hast. Peter could tell he was running across the balcony. “It’s a trap!” His feet pounded overhead before instantly dying. “We need back up! I repeat we need back up!” His voice cracked again and then was silent.

“Shit.” Ned slapped his gun against his shoulder. The thunder above their heads intensified. Feet pounded the metal grating of the balcony. Shadows passed between the cracks in the floor.

“Red Team takes the lead.” The room pulsed again with taunting red light. Peter growled.

From above they could hear a shuffle. Someone’s gun knocked something metal, creating a resounding ping.

Swallowing the pulse in his throat, Peter peaked out of the gaps in the slime once more. There was Betty, hidden under a pillar, barely visible between to neon walls. The red of her vest flickered when she moved. She was hiding, and Peter didn’t know why. Something told him MJ was plotting something.

There was a familiar sizzle across Peter’s nerves. He bounced on his haunches, ready, scanning the room. Light continually swept across their eyes. He could barely get a good look at the room.

More pounding above. Flash screeched. “Mayday! Mayday!” Green lasers cut across the room. Peter caught just the shadow of white light over a wall. Lasers answered the call in a clap of red and green

“Green Team takes the lead.” Flares of green. Bursts of adrenaline.

More lasers overhead. Betty was still a hunched figure across the room, never moving to take place in the action on the second floor.

“It’s a bloodbath up there, they need help. Run up to the balcony, I’ll cover you and be right behind.” Peter pushed Ned before holding him back for one last message. “Betty is over there behind that pillar, try and stay out of her sights.” Peter pointed Betty’s way. Ned nodded, readying his gun.

With the release of Ned’s vest, the boy bolted across the room. He ducked here and there. Betty stood. The red lights on her vest a beacon for Peter’s laser. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

How many people were on the balcony? Why was Betty a lone figure on the ground level?

Betty cut around, aiming at Ned. He dodged the fire. Peter was about to let his laser fly when his instincts pulled him away. Blood thrashed painfully inside his head. Peter lurched behind a flashing neon wall. He barely dodged one, two, lasers that hit the spot he’d just been in. He shot blindly around the corner. A knife of shock pierced his head as he realized there was a second person on the ground level besides Betty.

Peter attempted to see if Ned was okay. He couldn’t tell from his skewed vantage point.

Close to the floor, Peter poked his gun, then head around the corner. He fired three determined pinpoints of green light at his attacker. She rolled behind a drum of toxic waste. There was a flash of hair, pulled into a ponytail. It was a mess of kinky curls. Peter’s lips tilted up. He aimed his gun at a flare of red light bursting from MJ’s vest. Peter could see her bare shoulder, the wolfish grin on her lips. His pulse squeezed tight in his throat.

Before he could pull the trigger, alarm bells whirred in his head. Abe screamed above, “No man’s land! We need a sandwich!”

Peter and the boys had come up with code names for certain situations when they went laser tagging. No man’s land meant everyone one was pinned down and needing a sandwich meant they needed a flank. They could win this. They just needed to flank the girls.

Ned was trapped by Betty. Peter could hear the synthetic sound effect of MJ’s gun. Could see her laser hitting the wall. The floor. The shots were threat more than an actual attempt to hit him.

Peter took a calculated risk.

He rolled behind the adjacent wall. Purple light from the it flooded his vision. Overhead, one, two, three lasers fired on the balcony. There was a cry. A grunt. Someone swore.

Every light flashed ominous red. Green. Back to Red. The score was fluctuating so fast the referee couldn’t keep up. He merely bumbled, “Uh, Red Team takes the lead.”

“One-minute left in game.” The lights sputtered, white, warning of the time.

Peter couldn’t let them win.

Pulsating with energy, the room went still. Peter was electrified. His body, vibrating with adrenaline, cut through the thick air.

He could vaguely smell popcorn from the arcade. The lights overhead swung around in giant loops, orange, blue, pink. The weight of the gun in his hand steadied him. Calmed his racing heart. They would not lose today, he would ensure it.

Across the room was Betty, gun tucked into her shoulder, a smug smile etched on her face in the spooky blue flash of the lights. She looked like a silenced killer. Her gun aimed right at Ned’s cover. She was ready for him to make one movement she could fire at.

Peter hit Betty, a long shot from across the room. Ned bolted from behind his cover, up the stairs and onto the balconies. Betty’s vest flashed. Her laser died just as she’d begun firing at Ned. Peter ducked behind another slime wall, not taking time to evaluate his surroundings.

The room flooded with green light. “Green Team takes the lead. Five minutes remain.”

Peeking out of a gap in the plastic slime, Peter watched Betty drop her gun. Her vest lights flickered back on. Her gun continued to dangle, even after she came back online. Peter could just see her vest, her arms, and the smile crawling across her face. Her eyes flicked over to him, made contact.

Peter’s spider sense blared inside his body. “Oh, shit…”

The smell of popcorn turned bitter, burnt. Peter scrambled to his feet, gun at the ready. He was kicked back against the plastic slime. His vision burst. There was the black floor, the cheap shutter of the slime against his back. A halo of light around a dark head.

“Oh, shit is right, Loser.” It was MJ. Her black tank top and pants virtually invisible to the arena. Her sharp eyes tormented him as they raked over his body. The tangles of her hair looked like a triumphant crown glittering in the neon lights. Her sly smile seized up Peter’s breathing. Pink light hit her face on one side, died. Blue light hit her cheeks from the other side. Peter was dazed, frozen by her kaleidoscope of colors.  

In his stupor, MJ smacked his gun out of his hands. Her body pressed into his, pinning him. The wall groaned. It was a sound Peter matched as her lips crashed into his.

The world zoomed in, kicking the air out of Peter’s lungs before exploding back out again. MJ’s lips were dry against his but warm. He could feel her breath giving him life. Could feel the lightheaded thrill of her lips dragging and pressing against his.

Her fingers wound into his hair, yanking on the strands. Peter managed a sharp inhale, clasping his hands to her hips, dragging her closer to his own body. The arena was everything and nothing at the same time. He was acutely aware of lights flashing, voices yelling, but nothing could penetrate him now.

Her lips tasted like tea and honey, and something musty and arousing buried under all of that. He tasted them the same as he’d watched the lights reflect off her chocolate skin. She was a kaleidoscope created by God himself.

Fingers pressed on the back of Peter’s neck, dragging his lips impossibly closer to her own. She was everything, everything, everything. He squeezed her hips ever tighter, feeling the sharp bite of her bones beneath his palms. Her tongue ran across his bottom lip and they both gasped. Peter opened his mouth, eager as he began to wrap his arms around her slender waist.

She broke away, leaving him dazed.

She was a blurred epiphany as she faded away from him. Colors still played across the plains of her face. In her eyes light reflected back darker. Richer.  And that stupid grin on her face. The grin Peter thought was because she’s just kissed the crap out of him, grew into a devious smile. Her lips were still swollen, and the tip of her nose was blotchy from the kiss.

Her gun rocketed up between them. She pulled the trigger. The lights on his vest flashed white, blinding him. “You’ve got to be kid��MJ!” He lunged for her. Oh, he was going to murder her, or kiss her. He didn’t know.

Red flooded the room, the referee’s voice cracked across the speakers. “Red Team takes the lead. Twenty seconds remain.”

MJ dodged him, propping her gun towards the ceiling. Another cryptic smile. “To glory, girls!” Her voice was so loud, so sudden that Peter jumped. The room erupted in shouts and calls. There was an explosion of laughter and cries on the balcony. A jumbled sound of guns firing, and red lasers cut across the top half of the room. Peter saw three separate bursts of white lights against the walls. He knew immediately that the boys had lost. That the girls had set them up.

He had no doubt that MJ was the mastermind behind everything.

“What the hell was all that, MJ?” Peter growled, letting the world crash back into him. The lights were nearly strobing now. A countdown from ten was blasting in the arena. Peter couldn’t seem to move his arms anymore, starting to wonder if MJ’s kiss had meant anything at all. She seemed so unaffected by it.

“Me winning, Loser. I told you I’d get you!”

He set his jaw, letting the truth crash over him.

That was, at least, until MJ came within a few inches of him, again, leaning her lips down just enough to brush against his own. His skin was burning from the inside out. The heat in his face was unbearable. “Of course, that doesn’t mean that I didn’t set this whole plan up just so I could kiss you.” Every word her lips formed around brushed against Peter’s. He made a move to fully kiss her again, feeling a writhing sense of frustration deep in his gut. God, he wanted to get her back.

MJ yanked her head away at the last minute. She was already bounding away from him, cackling. “Bye, Loser.” She called it over her shoulder, disappearing into the concoction of lights flashing erratically while the time ticked to a close. The horn blared, the game over.

“Red Team takes the game!” The speakers blared.

Peter couldn’t bring himself to care, his mind still frozen in the memory of the kiss.

Every light was frozen in the color they’d been when the time stopped. Peter could see MJ walking to the door through the patchwork of light. The rest of their friends followed her. “This isn’t over!” He shouted around the knot in his throat. Heat writhed deep inside him, watching MJ’s hips sway through the door.

“I certainly hope it’s not!” Her voice filtered back to him, the only promise he needed. A smile took over his face and he finally moved to exit with his friends.

To glory, indeed.