a blurb in which...reader and spiderman!matt unexpectedly meet for the first time
au and photos by @mattflvwr <3
tw: fluff, intruding?
You had just come back home from your long day at the the cafe. You opened the door to your apartment and set down your keys on the side table, while taking of your coat and hanging it- until you hear a sound.
The window was open. You look around, no one. You take a few cautious steps and and grab a random candle stand. There's someone in the kitchen. You raise the candle stand, ready to attack the inruder. You peek over to see-whatthefuck?
"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" you yell. why was this dude dressed like spiderman?!
He was already looking at you. He shoots a web towards you, making your hand stick to the candle stand. WAIT-WHAT?!
"WHO ARE YOU?!!" he yells back, he seemed just as confused as you were.
He had his mask off, and was wearing sweat pants, only the upper half of his suit was visible. He was looking you up and down, head tilted, squinting an eye comically, leaning with one hand on the countertop.
"Look lady, if you're here to rob me, you're at the wrong house. I have no money." he says, looking at you...sympathetically? what is wrong with this guy?
You open your mouth to speak, closing it again.
"You're spider-man." you say more to yourself than him, processing everything in your head, the candle stand still stuck to your hand.
He shrugs.
"And you're in my house." he says, casually.
You look at him with your eyebrows raised. his house?
"Look mr, whatever your name is-"
"Matt. Matthew Sturniolo."
"RIght. Matt. This is my house. I came in with my own keys, unlike you." you glance towards the window, which he closes with his web. impressive.
He looks at you dumbfounded, and looks around, raising his eyebrows and slowly nodding. He looks back at you.
"We have the same fridge." he smiles.
You look at him, narrowing your eyes.
"Okay? You know since we're talking, you really should pay more attention being, you know, spider-man and all-and you shouldn't tell people your actual name."
"Well....you shouldn't have...the same fridge as me." he chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He leans on the fridge, making a magnet fall. He catches it before it hits the ground. He flashes another smile at you. cute, you think.
You sigh and take the web off your hand, before he helps you with it, setting the candle stand on the counter. He shifts from one leg to another before heading back towards the window. You raise an eyebrow at him.
"Mask." you remind him.
His eyebrows immediately shoot up before he puts on his mask. He points at you, before swiftly exiting through the window.
You look at the window, sighing. whatthefuck just happened?
a/n: I just had to write about bugboy. I LOVE THE AU BTW
spiderman!matt who. . . has developed an anxious habit of fiddling with the hem of his hoodie everytime you bring up spiderman
spiderman!matt who. . . purposely makes fun of his own suit while in his civilian form just to get a reaction out of you.
“the spandex and huge ass lenses look dumb as hell, be fuckin’ for real right now.”
spiderman!matt who. . . laughs a little too nervously every time you joke “imagine if you were spiderman” like okay haha can we stop now
spiderman!matt who. . . always has a clever excuse ready for every random bruises on his face or split knuckle
“oh, this?” he pointed at the purple bruise on his cheekbone when you asked. “tried a few skate tricks. board smacked me on the way down.” he shrugged, completely unfazed.
spiderman!matt who. . . senses danger before the sirens even start, and is already running out the door with some half-assed excuse
spiderman!matt who. . . goes quiet whenever you say you’re worried about spiderman, and all he can do is look away and whisper, “he’ll be fine. i promise”
spiderman!matt who. . . pretends he doesn't care and feels a weird surge of jealousy every time you tell him stories of your interactions with spiderman, even though it’s literally him
spiderman!matt who. . . swings by your apartment and takes you to the rooftop just because
spiderman!matt who. . . has genuinely argued with pigeons mid-patrol because they keep flying into his face or sitting on his web lines
spiderman!matt who. . . mumbles to himself when he's swinging—little things like “left, up, don’t miss”, or soft curses when he almost crashes
spiderman!matt who. . . who hates it when people call him stupid nicknames like “webhead,” “bug boy,” or “spidey” — unless it you
“bug boy! he went that way!” a lady in her late 40’s yelled the moment spiderman swung onto the scene, pointing in the direction the snatcher run off with her purse. spiderman let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes beneath the mask. “it’s spiderman,” he muttered.
spiderman!matt who. . . secretly follows you around — not to stalk you— but to make sure that you’re safe
spiderman!matt who. . . hates that the only way he gets to stay close to you is by being someone you’re not supposed to love, and knowing it could put you in danger—yet he can’t stop himself
spiderman!matt who. . . would never confess as matt because he’s convinced that you wouldn’t choose him over the mask
in which: spiderman!matt bails on you again for god knows what reason (superhero duties)
read part 2 & part 3 here !!
the café’s almost empty now. the hum of the espresso machine is quieter, and the barista keeps looking at you like you’re waiting for someone who’s not coming.
that’s because you are.
you and matt were supposed to meet up here before heading to the arcade. matt said he wanted to make it up to you for bailing on your plans. matt said six o’clock. he said promise. and you believed him, because his voice sounded so sure this time, like he really wanted to mean it.
the latte has gone cold. your phone stays silent. the sky outside has shifted from gold to gray. the hope you’ve been trying to keep alive starts to ache.
you scroll through your old messages, the “sorry, something came up" ones, the " make it up to you next time” ones, the "i swear i’ll be there” ones. each one feels heavier than the last.
you know it's stupid to keep waiting, but a part of you still wants to believe that he's on his way.
notes: wrote this while in the evacuation center for typhoon fung-wong (we're safe dw!!) i wanted to draw the spiderman mask on the 2nd pic but got lazy so 😭🙏 likes, comments, and reblogs will be greatly appreciated !!
in which: after taking care of a hostage situation and treating his injured arm, matt shows up in front of your apartment to apologize
contains: light angst, fluff, mention of injury (lmk if there's more)
read part 1 and part 2 if you haven't !!
10:42 PM
matt stood in front of your apartment building, his left arm wrapped in bandages, hidden under his black hoodie, and a backpack slung over his shoulder. he’s used to patching up his own injuries, choosing to avoid hospitals so he doesn't raise suspicion.
it hurt, sure, but the pain didn't matter knowing you’d been sitting alone at the café, waiting for nothing. he promised to be there. he wanted to fix things, to make up for every time he’d let you down. but instead, he made you wait again.
the guilt is eating him alive.
he dragged in a slow breath and looked up at the fourth floor, your window glowing warm against the dark. you were home. awake, probably. and he wasn't sure if that made it better or worse.
he exhaled slowly and opened his messages. maybe you wouldn't come down. maybe you’d ignore him. but he had to at least try.
you were in the middle of getting ready for bed when your phone buzzed with notifications. you didn't think much of it at first, until you glanced at your screen.
your chest tightened. you were still upset and hurt about what happened, and seeing matt’s name did nothing to ease that. you waited for hours earlier—believing that he meant it this time, looking up every time the door opened, hoping it was finally him. but he never came.
you let out a breath and walked toward your window, pushing the curtain aside just enough to peak outside.
there he was. standing on the sidewalk below your building, shoulders slumped, hood pulled low. matt was still holding onto his phone, thumb hovering like he'd type another message if you didn't answer soon. he looked exhausted. guilty. and somehow smaller that usual.
you closed your eyes. you should ignore him. you know that. but you also know you couldn't—not when it's him.
matt stared at his phone, hoping you'd type something back, but nothing came. he lifted his gaze toward the fourth floor again—just in time to see your light click off.
oh.
right. of course. you were done with him. you should be. this is exactly what he deserved.
still, the heaviness in his chest didn't go away. it pressed harder, tighter, until he wasn't sure if it was the bullet graze burning under his sleeve or the guilt clawing at him.
eventually, he exhaled and turned to leave after staying there for a few more minutes, shoulders slumping down as he started walking down the sidewalk.
then he heard it—the creak of the apartment building's front door. matt whipped around.
you stepped outside in your pajamas and a hoodie, arms crossed against the cold night air, eyes tired, but willing.
“cherry—"
"make it quick," you cut him off, arms crossing tighter. "i'm not staying out here long." you tried to sound firm, irritated, done—but the moment his eyes met yours, your resolve wavered. annoyingly fast.
matt ignored the way his heart dropped at the tone of your voice and nodded, swallowing hard. “i’m sorry," he started, voice barely above a whisper.
"i have no excuse for what i did. i shouldn't have promised something that i couldn't keep… and i shouldn't have left you waiting without telling you i couldn't make it,” matt's voice shook a little as he tried to hold your gaze.
“i don't expect you to forgive me right away. i know i don't deserve another chance, and i won't blame you if you hate me for tonight... or for everytime i messed up. i just wanna let you know that i really am sorry."
that one hit you in a place you weren't ready for. matt's eyes lowered, lashes trembling—he actually meant it. he truly believed you might hate him.
still, you reminded yourself not to cave so easily. “are you done?" you asked, keeping your voice cold, arms still crossed.
matt nodded, but his fingers twitched, like he almost forgot something. “yeah. i just—there’s one more thing."
before you could even ask what it was, he was already slipping his backpack off one shoulder. he unzipped it carefully—almost nervously—and when he pulled something out, your breath caught.
a small bouquet.
matt held it out to you hesitantly, his eyes fixed on the wilted petals and crinkled wrapping. “i got this for you," he said quietly.
"it looked nicer when i bought it, i swear,” he chuckled under his breath, his free hand coming up to scratch the back of his head in embarassment. “maybe i shouldn't have put it in my bag."
you stared at the flowers for a beat longer than you meant to. they were a little flattened, the paper slightly torn—clearly handled by someone who didn't know how to carry delicate things. someone who tried anyway.
your fingers brushed his when you took the bouquet, and matt's breath hitched like he didn't expect you to actually accept it.
you cleared your throat and looked at the flowers again, trying to hide the way your chest squeezed at the sight of them.
“they're… not that bad,” you murmured, even though they absolutely were. matt let out a soft laugh, eyes lowering, “you don't have to make me feel better about them.”
"i’m not,” you said a little too fast. "i’m just saying."
the silence that settled wasn't sharp anymore. it was softer—fragile in a different way.
“thank you," matt murmured. “for… taking them."
“don't get ahead of yourself," you muttered, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably. “i didn't say you're forgiven."
"i know,” matt replied instanly, nodding. “i just… wanted to try.”
you tightened your grip on the bouquet, feeling your resolve slip in tiny pieces. you sighed, stepping back toward the door. “i should go back inside. it's late." matt nodded again, swallowing hard. "y-yeah—yeah, of course.”
you turned toward the entrance, taking one step up before pausing, your free hand hovering over the door handle.
“and matt?" you said softly, glancing over your shoulder. his head lifted immediately. “yeah?"
you looked down at the flowers, holding the bouquet a little closer to your chest. “i don't hate you. i could never," you said, barely above a mumble. "just so you know.”
your face warmed immediately, like you didn't mean to say those words out loud. "goodnight, matt.” you blurted, stepping fully into the door. you didn't wait for his reply and slipped inside quickly, the door shutting behind you before he could get a word out.
outside, matt let out a shaky exhale. the weight pressing on him finally loosened.
you didn't hate him. even after everything.
he felt like he didn't deserve that kind of relief but it still washed over him anyway, a small tired smile forming at his lips.
note: i didn't know dialogues were this fucking painful to write 😭 also, idk how i feel abt the ending, i just needed it done and post it 😭 likes, comments, and reblogs will be greatly appreciated, and my inbox is always open for requests !! 🫶
“alright, no more mr. nice guy,” spiderman grumbled underneath the mask, his patience wearing thin.
he’s been at this for hours—standing between a man holding someone hostage in front of the mall, gun pointed on the side of the poor lady's head, and the restless crowd that gathered behind the police line. he’s reasoned, pleaded, tried to keep it calm, but the man won't listen.
he exhales through the mask, low and steady. talking’s not working. time to move.
spiderman moved in a blur, launching himself toward the man before he could even react. the impact sent them rolling across the pavement. the police officers rushed to pull the hostage away from the scene.
a gunshot went off, loud and close. the crowd screamed in panic. a sharp pain sliced through spiderman's arm, but he didn't stop. "you son of a—" he fired a web, yanking the gun out of the man’s hand before punching him square in the face. the man groaned in pain, curling into himself as he clutched his broken nose.
he's down. finally.
spiderman pushed himself up from the ground, breath beginning to steady. he took a quick look at his arm. thank god the bullet just grazed him.
after intense encounters like this, he’d usually check on the victims before leaving the scene, leaving the rest to the police—but now, he barely even spared the hostage a glance as he swung away from the flashing lights.
