love(bug) on the line: the sequel!
❦ pairing: nerd! Leehan x school prez f!reader ❦ genre: Spider-Man! AU | fluff, action, light angst ❦ syn: to you, Kim Leehan is the cute, awkward marine biology nerd who just also happens to be Spider-Man. You’re just waiting for him to finally ask you out...but why the hell do all your potential date-not-dates keep getting ruined by mutant monsters or movie villains!? ❦ wc: 7.9k ❦ t/w: injury, nerds flirting ❦ titular song: love on the line by her’s ❦ a/n: this is for both my prince oddball aka spiderhan aka the b'day boy 🐇, and for my princess cherry 🍒 levy, aka the loml, bcs 'hannie baby' wouldn't be possible w/o her, and because hannie is her baby, as she is mine. ❦ special thnx to my lovely beta readers: moe my sweet ♡ & hana (dul, set) ──── you guys mean the world to me! 𓆛
𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ──── ORIGINAL | SEQUEL | FINALE [½] | [2/2]
SERIES MASTERLIST
Being Spider-Man might just be the best job in the world.
6:30 AM
“Help-...someone help!!!”
Leehan sits perched on the summit of the tallest tower in the city, sharp eyes scanning for potential danger. Through the cacophony of the rush hour, he picks out the woman’s voice, his feet moving at record speed as a string of web shoots from his wrist—body lithely blurring past shiny skyscrapers and office buildings, landing on the concrete road with the grace of an acrobat.
“Let go of the purse, and maybe I’ll let you off the hook.” Leehan’s smirk can be heard despite the mask he wears. He motions to the old woman to take cover behind him.
The robber jabs his knife into the air, threatening to stab, but Leehan just sighs in exaggerated boredom and takes a couple steps forward, stretching his arms behind his shoulders to pop a joint.
“Don’t take another step!” Beads of sweat roll down the man’s forehead as he unconsciously backs away, voice shaky. “I’m not afraid to hurt you, Spider-Man!”
“Yeah?” Leehan grins, the lens of his mask narrowing into amused slits. “Go ahead then.”
You roll your eyes behind the comms.
Over the course of his time as the city’s sweetheart of a superhero, Leehan has developed quite the double personality—his confidence skyrocketing once the mask went over his face, and his normally shy stuttering laid aside for when it came off—typically in your presence.
Other times, he’d get all suave—almost cocky—in the way he turned every criminal encounter into a hobby for banter, trying out experimental catchphrases and flashy new moves just to look cool and earn some new fans along the way.
“Stop getting distracted.” You scold him into the mic of your headset, wanting to avoid yet another injury.
“Yes ma’am.” The response is immediate—frightened and obedient, reaching you through the recording device you’d seamlessly stitched into the inside of his mask. You shake your head fondly—what a nerd.
What follows is a pretty quick tussle: Leehan kicks the knife out of the man’s hold; a jab here, a hook there; he ends up with both his hands tied behind his back, trying to thrash as Leehan keeps him immobile with a bundle of webs.
The police arrives soon after, escorting the robber into their car and driving off after giving Spider-Man his obligatory thanks. Leehan signs off with a cheeky salute, handing the purse back to the little old lady and letting her leave after she thanks him with a kiss to his cheek, one which he has to bend for.
“Good job, Partner.” You crack your knuckles, shutting off the video feed on your laptop and pulling out your council books to return to your life as the student president. “Could’ve been faster if you didn’t waste your time flirting with the enemy.”
He stammers defiantly, “Flir-I wasn’t-” You hide the smile in your voice as he attempts to clear his name, like someone who just got wrongly accused of cheating. “I wasn’t flirting, Y/N, just…I don’t know, I thought it would intimidate him…?”
It’s a little funny actually, this thing between the two of you—a gentle push and pull you couldn’t say you disliked. You certainly did like to make him flustered.
“Get back here before the bell rings.” You grin.
The reply is quick as a blink—“Yes ma’am.”
7:15 AM
Leehan sprints through the hallway, his flannel top flying widely in the air, glasses slipping off his nose and hair bouncing up and down. He’s further ahead of his schedule than usual, but the stride of his steps imply otherwise.
At the same time, you exit the council room, having forced your fellow members to arrive earlier (even if they had complained about it) so that you could leave in time to meet a certain someone at your locker.
You wave, with a sudden skip in your step. “Hannie!”
“Y/N!” He heaves as he skids to a stop in front of you.
The routine is intimately familiar now: syncing up your schedule so your extracurriculars don’t clash with your duties as his ‘guy in the chair’ (or you suppose, girl in the chair), the regular meet-ups before classes, briefing his morning missions before you start to tease him just to see how red you could get his ears to turn, and him complying without any objections.
Today carries an extra sweetness—it’s the last day before summer break, before the final semester ahead of graduation.
Your eyes twinkle as he pushes his glasses back up his nose bridge. “You don’t have to keep wearing those, you know,” You say, alluding to the keener senses his powers granted him.
Leehan smiles sheepishly. “I feel weird if I don’t. It’s like an extra limb.”
What a strange, strange boy. You want to reach in and pinch his cheeks, but you hold back on account of public decorum.
“Soooo,…made any plans for summer yet?” You teeter on the heels of your boots, clutching your book behind your back while playfully looking up at him. He blushes under your attention.
“Uhm-I..” He scratches the back of his neck. “I’m volunteering at the Aquarium, that’s all.”
You hum in thought, leaning in closer to make him redder. “That means you’ll be busy, huh?” Letting out a quiet sigh, you pout.
“Wait!” He jumps, voice higher than he wants it to be.
Hook, line, and sinker; you could have predicted his next words verbatim—
“I can make myself free,...if you’d like.”
‘I’d like,” You nod with a silly grin. “Very much so.”
He agrees to meet up with you after school at the local amusement park, to kick off the holidays with celebratory ice-cream and rides. Leehan is blushing profusely at the thought of the unsaid promise of it being a date, when he sees you glance down at your watch.
7:50 AM
Huh,...you hadn’t even realised the passing of time.
You bite down on your lower lip, too reluctant to part ways with him—and you aren’t surprised to see the same expression mirrored on his face.
“The bell's about to ring.” You say, stating the obvious.
“Yeah, we should-”
“Yep.”
When the two of you lock eyes, the quiet counting down of a clock echoes in your mind, knowing that this was something more than just a friendship. Students flurry past your bodies, off to their own classes as you hesitate to budge.
Ringggggggg
The school-bell goes off and you’re forced to spring apart to leave in opposite ways, but only after glancing back at each other several times to bid goodbye.
When you sit down for your final Physics class of the semester, you realise you already miss Leehan’s company,...which is strange because you’ll be seeing him in less than nine hours.
Little do you know, somewhere in the other wing of the school, a fish-nerd in flannel accidentally doodles your name onto his Chemistry notebook, thinking the exact same thing about you.
“Mom, I want to go on the rocket ride!” A kid about five apples tall with a Spider-Man mask over his eyes bounces up and down on his toes.
His mother chides him, trying to drag him away. “You’re too small for it, shush.”
The boy continues to whine until she sighs wearily, “Wait for your dad, he’ll be back from the restroom soon.”
The amusement park is busy and bright under the moonlight—queues of people lined up for behemoth rides, a loudspeaker blasting carnival music, the scent of popcorn wafting over from the vendors’, filling your senses pleasantly; Leehan’s fingers are warm where they brush against yours, as though testing whether he should interlink them.
“This is nice.” You beam, tilting your head sideways to bump it against his shoulder, catlike. “I haven’t been here in ages, the last time was when I was like ten.”
He smiles down at you, cheeks a soft pink. “Me too. My mom used to make my older sister take me with her and her friends, but I haven’t since she went off to college.”
You nod, then remember something from earlier, “Oh, did the suit modification work? I tried my best to make it into a two-piece so you can…, you know-” A slightly awkward cough leaves your lips, painting your cheeks ruddy. “-take it off easier.”
Leehan’s eyes widen as big as saucers.
“For when you’re injured!” You jump to explain, but the damage is already done when it leaves both of you slipping into silence with burning cheeks.
The cool air of the night is a welcome bite on your heated face, but you’re still dressed in a thin shirt and skirt meant for the summer sun. Leehan sees the tiny shiver you can’t hold back, and he’s already removing his jacket to place around your shoulder without a second thought.
You blink up at him, but he’s not looking anymore, having gone back to poking at the centre of his glasses like he hadn’t just sprouted a family of butterflies in your stomach.
And he doesn’t even know how attractive he is like this—an accidental gentleman.
You’ve seen him in action countless times: saving civilians, holding together broken train-carts, squaring off against villains twice his size. None of it is as mesmerising as he is now, quiet and caring, and a little clueless.
“Carousel.” His voice breaks you out of your dreamy thoughts.
You look ahead to see what he’s pointing at—a merry-go-round with yellow lights bathing the plastic white horses underneath, humming a children’s rhyme as it spins in circles. Leehan has stars in his eyes, and the sight alone makes your heart thump louder.
You try to level your voice, attempting a casual tone. “Wanna go?”
He hesitates in his answer, but on seeing your warm expression, nods.
He’s so cute, you might combust on spot.
You discard the paper wrapper in your hand, ready to pull him forward with you to the line of people waiting for the carousel, most of them presumably lovers, all giddy smiles and interlaced hands. It’s a thrilling thought—doing something so clearly romantic with Leehan.
But you’re barely two steps closer when a crash explodes from behind you.
Smoke erupts all around, the happy music smothered by people’s screams of panic. Rubble tumbles down. When you look up, the ferris wheel has stopped moving, stuck as something jams into its controller.
“It’s the Green Goblin!” Yells a man in the crowd, pointing upwards, and you see it—the bottle-green armour and steel glider that vaults mid-air, and a sneering, insect-like face to match.
Leehan turns to you. You don’t need him to speak before you reach into his jacket’s pocket and discreetly shove his Spidey mask into his arms.
“Go get 'em, bug boy.”
He nods in understanding before taking off, swerving into a secluded corner to take off his outer clothes, leaving just the suit underneath.
The green figure above laughs menacingly, taunting the crowd with his vicious grenades. “Puny vermin, think you can just run away, HAHA-”
He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before a red haze spins over the metal rails of a nearby rollercoaster, using its framework as leverage for his web. In record time, the glider is kicked over in one swift motion, knocking the goblin off onto the debris.
“Spider-Man!!” Cheers erupt in relief as Leehan lands smoothly next to his collapsed enemy.
The Green Goblin huffs behind his mask, trying to get back up, but Spider-Man is already a step too quick for him, wrangling his body into the floor before he can reach for another one of his explosives.
“Nice outfit, Mr. Goblin—a little too early for Halloween though.” Leehan quips with a grin. “Or were you trying to cosplay the Grinch instead?”
“You fool, you stupid bug, you think you can just-”
“Oh, save it for the police.” Leehan sighs, ready to call it a day. But-
“MY BABY! MY SON, HE’S STILL UP THERE!” A woman wails suddenly, clutching her chest as others try to hold her back. When Leehan looks up, he sees a small body dangling off a half-broken piece of the rollercoaster, too out of reach for his terrified father to reach even when he tries to.
Leehan looks back down, then up. He has to choose one—either save the kid, or let the crook go. There’s not enough time to subdue the Goblin with his webs; every second counts.
The choice comes easy as breathing.
There is no regret in his bones even when he reluctantly unhands the bastard, not waiting to see him flee for his life, and shoots another stream of his webs to keep the boy aloft before making his way to him.
Leehan approaches carefully, wary of any more civilians falling if he gets too close, using one arm to keep himself up, and the other to reach out to the petrified child. With the gentle voice he usually reserves for small animals, he says, “Hey there buddy.”
The boy doesn’t respond immediately.
Kid gloves, Leehan repeats in his mind before trying again. “I’m Spider-Man, you know me? I’m the guy on your mask.”
He nods in reply, gulping as another fearful shiver runs down his little body when he peeks down from the height. Leehan carries on smoothly, “Great! So you know I help people right?”
Another tiny nod.
“All you do now is hold my hand, ‘kay? Like this-” He reaches out his fingers, stretching as far as he can.
The boy, although scared at first, looks at Spider-Man’s face with a whimper, then does as he’s told.
Another wave of cheers erupt as Leehan successfully hugs the boy in one arm, swings down, and hands him back to his sobbing mother. Phone-cameras flash around him as he brushes it off with feigned modesty.
But when the mom bows to thank him, Leehan feels a genuine rush of warmth in his heart, melting it when the boy then hugs his knees with a sniffle, and he can’t hold back ruffling his hair in return.
But between the blinding lights and voices, he picks your face out—you're standing akimbo with a proud expression.
His heart soars.
After many pleasantries and a not-at-all-casual “Your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man is here to stay!”, he sets off into the moonlight, drinking in the hurrahs that echo behind him.
You’re already waiting at your spot near the park when he jogs over, back in the previously discarded clothes he had stashed somewhere safe.
“Good job, Partner.” You say, like always. He grins bashfully.
“Did you see?” Leehan asks, falling into step with you.
“Duh.” You tap at your phone screen, letting him know that you had your comms turned on. It’s obvious that you’re always watching—out of both admiration, and worry.
“So much for a date, huh?” The words slip past your tongue, too late in the night for any restraints; when you glance sideways, Leehan has gentle creases around his eyes, and an apology hidden beneath them.
He leads you to the front door of your apartment building, looking up at you as he stands on the stairs below.
“I still liked it, by the way. Carousel or not.” You smile, eyes soft under the spill of stars in front of you.
Leehan’s shoulders relax at your words. When you begin to shrug off his jacket, he reaches out to stop you.
“Keep it.”
You bite down a grin. “...Okay.”
A kiss awaits the moment, but both of you are exhausted after the events of a long day—so you head back up into your home after a wave, watching Leehan wait until you’re inside before he leaves.
When you get into your bed for the night, you’re still holding onto his jacket, hiding your fond smile behind the scent of his soap and something close to baby powder.
A kiss could have sealed it, this thing you’ve got—the playful teetering between ‘almosts’ and ‘not enoughs’.
But hey, it's summer. And you’ve got all the time in the world. It can wait.
𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ──── //
The next time it happens, you’re at the local Science Museum—a place where you’ve always been drawn back to on your bad days when you felt too slumped, to walk around the innovation zone where you felt the most creative and inspired. Every time you come back here, your brain buzzes with new ideas for another one of your inventions.
What surprises you is that Leehan also happened to do the same—except, for him, it was the natural history exhibits. It's a wonder that the two of you hadn’t crossed paths earlier than you did, given how intertwined your childhoods seemed to feel.
“This one's huge” Your eyes are wide as they look up at the twenty-something-feet tall skeleton.
Leehan giggles at your reaction. “It’s an Apatosaurus,...means deceptive lizard"
You tilt your head curiously, making him blush even deeper.
“Deceptive because when it was first discovered, they confused it with the fossils of a marine reptile.”
His eyes sparkle each time he launches into another dinosaur fact, with the same fervour he had explained the courtship rituals of turtles weeks back (fluttering claws, apparently), and you file each one of them away in the crevice of your brain like a secret—a memory only you’re allowed to have of him: his eager voice, the glint behind his glasses, the tiny bounce in his steps.
Leehan doesn’t notice—he’s mid-spiel about ancient fish lizards and prehistoric turtles when your attention is shattered by a flurry of sand that sweeps past your feet and right into your eye.
“What the fu-”
“Spider-Man.” The low timbre reverberates through the mostly empty museum room, bringing another swirl of sand flying onto you. “I know you’re here.”
A stocky hulk of a man stands at the entrance, looking around as though hunting for a bug to squash under his foot. The Sandman—an old enemy Leehan couldn’t shake off his back no matter how hard he tried.
You want to groan; Curse your terrible fortune…
Leehan shares a glance with you, telepathically communicating, and you catch on quickly. You slip away quietly, dragging him with you, and into a dusty janitor’s cupboard in the corner.
“Our timing sucks, huh?” You sigh as you help him take off his glasses and unbutton his shirt, tying it around your waist as he pulls on the mask.
“Sorry,” is all he can reply with.
You smile weakly, patting him on the shoulder. “Good luck out there.” And for good measure, you lean up to press a kiss against his cheek, over the rubbery red material.
Leehan finds himself lucky that you can’t see the flush of his face.
When he dashes out the door after changing, he looks back at you a little sadly, wanting to stay with you longer, but knowing his responsibility to protect civilians couldn’t be abandoned just because he felt too selfish.
The fight lasts all of two hours, leaving him gasping for air and without much breath for his normally snarky wisecracks. But your good-luck kiss must have done its job, because after several months of frenzied chasing, he finally manages to seize the Sandman, tangling him against the unfortunate fossil of a Stegasaurus, and then trudging away with a salute and a fit of ungraceful coughs.
You find him slumped against the back of the museum building, legs drawn up against his chest.
“Hannie.” You inch closer, leaning down to help him tear off his sweaty mask. “Are you okay?”
He nods, forcing a faint smile for you. You don’t buy it.
But instead of pushing, all you do is press your knees against his, grounding him like you’ve learnt to do over time, letting him know you’re here and he’s not alone in this.
When he drops you off for the day, you don’t talk about it. There is no mention of regret or exhaustion, just the deep-seated feeling of quiet understanding. It was supposed to be a nice day—to relax and wander and maybe, just maybe, finally hold his hand. But your sweet moments with him ended up being thrown aside because of some disturbed criminal with anger issues and no sense of timing.
But you guess that’s what it means to care about the city’s saviour.
Still, you would be lying if you said you didn’t silently wish things could be different.
𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ──── //
Patience is a virtue, and you’re a resilient woman—in your own opinion, at least.
But the universe seemed to be hell-bent on testing you these days.
As if the Green Goblin and the Sandman weren't enough already, every single one of your outings gets disrupted by one monstrosity or the other: a perfectly planned picnic is squashed by a humanoid lizard who you were unfortunately well-acquainted with, then a man that shoots electricity out of his body sabotages the exact day you picked out to go to a boardgame cafe with Leehan.
Then there are eerie semi-fluids that turn into annoying jerks, antiheroes that piss you off with their long monologues and stupid interruptions; every almost-kiss and near-confession ending with a hurried apology and dejected eyes—your composure starts to chip away, block by block.
Kim Leehan is your cute, awkward marine biology nerd who just also happens to be everyone else’s Spider-Man. And you’re just waiting for him to finally ask you out...but why the hell do all your potential date-not-dates keep getting ruined by mutant monsters or movie villains!? What kind of crimes might you have done in your past life to deserve such misfortune!?
“Kill me now.” You mumble while knocking your head gently and repeatedly against the edge of your study desk, hand angrily gripping a screwdriver as you remember the memory of your sandwich getting crushed under the feet of the ugly reptilian mutant.
“Y/N?” A clear voice breaks you out of your miserable thoughts. When you look sideways, Leehan is sitting on your window ledge, suit on, mask off, backpack slinging from a shoulder, a single leg slung over into your room—kind of like Peter Pan at Wendy's window.
Your face immediately lights up, a switch that just looking at him seems to bring about these days. “Hannie!”
He takes it as permission to enter. “Is this a bad time?” His voice is shy, tentative.
You shake your head, motioning for him to sit down on your mattress, but he drops down onto your carpeted floor instead, not wanting to dirty your sheets.
“I was just working on some modifications for your web-shooter actually,” You grin, earning another blush from him—you knew that he liked it when you talked all science-y. “By the way, why do you still come in through my window? My mom already knows you and the front door is always an option.”
He just rubs the back of his head, like that thought hadn’t occurred to him. You giggle under your breath; the soft spot you have for him as obvious as pi is irrational.
“So,...you here to let me test out my gadgets on you again?” You wiggle your brows comically, like some mad scientist ready to torture a lab rat.
Leehan swallows a nervous gulp, and you think it’s from your teasing until he opens his mouth to speak. “Would you…”
Another awkward draw of breath, his fingers fidgeting over the mask in his hands, face red but not from physical exertion. His eyes find a spot on the floor to stare at. And then, “Would you want to go out with me,...on a date?”
...
You forget to exhale, air caught in your chest.
He…said it. The words you’ve been wishing to hear. He just says it while he’s on your bedroom floor in his sweaty suit and mussed up hair and that nervous expression that drove you insane on the regular. You pinch your forearm to check if you were dreaming, and when nothing in front of you changes, a bright smile takes over your face.
“YES!” You hear yourself say, a little louder than you meant for it to sound.
Leehan looks up slowly, as though he doesn’t believe your words. “Yes?”
“Yes.” You’re nodding excitedly. “Yes, of course.”
He sighs out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, pushing his hair back in relief. “Oh,... wow.”
And then he’s zipping open his bag, pulling out something from its messy depths.
“Aquarium tickets.” Leehan waves the two glossy blue strips in his hand, anticipating your reaction.
Part of you wants to say, “Anywhere is fine, as long as I’m with you,” while another part wants to tease him with a “You want to introduce me to fish?”.
But the first one is overeager for your pride, and the second is a moot sentence, given he’d already introduced you to the tens of fishes he kept in his bedroom.
So you settle for a third, intermediate sentence—”Kim Leehan, an aquarium date is perfect.”
It earns you that blush you like so much; it lingers on his cheeks even when he’s bidding you a goodbye, his profile golden under the setting sun.
That night, you don’t think of ruined dates or supervillains; instead, your fantasies are full of Neverland and fish facts and turtles in love.
Leehan looks beautiful in blue, is your first thought.
The lights from the floor-to-ceiling glass tank cascades over his skin, dancing in cerulean ripples. His eyes remain transfixed on the candy floss-coloured jellyfish that float around lazily inside, and your eyes remain fixed on him.
“—are called the pink meanies, they’re ‘jellivorous’.” Leehan is rambling, poking a finger at the glass. “See those, the long thingies, those are their oral arms. That’s what they use to capture prey.”
You nod, listening through one ear, and tuning into the quirks in his voice with the other.
“And those,” He says at another display, “are moon jellies, these are turtle food. Oh, and those! Blue blubbers—we can eat them!”
Leehan’s excitement is infectious; soon you find yourself waiting for more facts on oceanic creatures—on small, spindly seahorses that slug about with their curly tails, stingrays that play hide and seek inside their tunneled enclosures, starfish you can touch with the pad of your fingers, tracing over their cold ridges, and a giant whale shark that floats by without sparing you a glance.
The last attraction is the penguins. Leehan does not stop talking, giddier than any of the kids who press their sticky hands against the glass exhibit to ogle at the waddling array of tuxedos.
“Some penguins mate for life,” He says fervently, “And, they propose with pebbles!”
“Pebbles?” You ask with a smile.
“Mm-hmm.” He nods with a force that almost knocks his glasses off his face. “The male gifts it to the female, and if she accepts, they build a nest together!”
“Woah! That’s adorable.” You grin. “What else?"
He thinks for a second, pressing his pointer finger to his lips, a habit you’ve grown familiar with. “...They...can recognise their partner’s call among thousands of other penguins.” His tone is quieter now, cheeks reddening with each word. “It’s called the cocktail party effect.”
“Oh.”
Picking out a single voice even in a crowd of thousands screaming, an automatic reaction of the senses. The phenomenon is not a stranger to you.
You wonder if it’s the same for him.
When he clears his throat and looks away, switching the topic to baby penguins and moulting periods, you bite down your smile and let him pretend he’s successful at looking smooth. After a whole hour or two of meandering through the building, you end up in the aquarium’s gift shop.
There are rows of stuffed animals and merchandise stacked on shelves—cute seals in tiny jackets, huggable clownfish, the fuzziest beluga plushie you’ve ever seen. You and Leehan take several selfies holding matching items in your hands, smiling wide for the camera, not caring about the judgmental stares you receive from a class of twelve year olds.
“This is so you.” You pick out a pair of bright blue novelty glasses from the display; it has a plastic shark on either side, biting the rims.
He doesn’t push away or complain when you replace his own glasses with the party ones.
You grin, switching to a sultry voice. “This is a hundred percent your look, Hannie baby.”
Leehan almost short-circuits at the way you wink, catching onto the reference easily after you’d forced him to binge the TV show with you. He looks silly with the glasses on, but your smitten brain can only process it as absolutely adorable.
“Cute.” You throw another compliment at him, not waiting for his mind to catch up before dragging him away to another rack.
There are magnets and keychains dangling from it—some with cheesy puns like ‘You’re jelly-fishtastic!’, or just simple, cute penguin-themed ones like ‘two birds of a feather’. Your hand absently outlines the latter, not seeing how Leehan’s eyes notice.
“We should get a pair to match.” He declares awkwardly, looking away, pretending to be preoccupied with his glasses.
“Huh?”
“We should-” He tries again, slowly meeting your eyes, making you remember that this was a date. “-get matching keychains, for our bags or something. I-I don’t have enough.”
You know that's a lie—he has several.
“-And you don’t have any, so…”
The employee greets Leehan as he pays for the two items, knowing him on a first name basis from his volunteering at the Aquarium. You press the keychain against your heart as he loops a finger through the ring of his.
“Y/N,” Leehan lets out softly, before either of you can step out through the exit, reaching out his hand. “There’s something I have to say.”
He’s going to do it.
He’s going to make it official and real and serious and your heart does a jump.
But if your fortune recently had proved anything, it was that everything good can be shattered by the sound of an annoying, unstopping, BEEEEEEEP!!!
The stupid alarm had gone off.
“Attention all visitors, this is an emergency—please evacuate through the nearest exit.” A robotised voice announces through the intercoms, doing nothing for the crowd that begins to panic and run.
Leehan knows it without needing to be told, and you’re not dull either—it has to be a villain ambush, you can feel it in your gut that it is.
“Stay here, okay?” He says and begins to take off, in the opposite direction from the exit you were ordered to leave through. No one bats an eye at the strange behaviour while they’re running for their own safety.
You know you should follow the crowd, keep yourself away from harm and watch him through your comms instead. But the anxiety that bubbles up in your belly is alien, not the same as the pricks of fear you feel when he takes a dangerous tumble or comes home with a deeper gash than he’s supposed to.
Your feet moves before your mind does.
Two long shadows creep over the blue-lit flooring when you circle around a wall, the whale shark from before lurking languidly behind them.
“Awww…the incy wincy spidey’s come to play,” drawls out the short but frightening man in green, with mechanical tentacles like that of an octopus extending from his spine and holding him up mid-air, and black, oval glasses framing his hidden eyes.
“Doc Ock.” Leehan mutters from behind his mask, annoyance apparent. “Why are you here?”
The man simply laughs in amusement. “Where else would an octopus be but the aquarium? You’re quite slow behind that mask of yours aren’t you?”
Leehan grits his teeth, the taunt needling at him. But he brushes it off after a second thought. “Stop wasting my time, let’s just get this over with.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” He leers.
Before either says another word, a throng of metal arms come clawing at Leehan, aiming for his throat and another for his legs. But he’s too quick for the enemy, vaulting over the tentacles and bending his torso to avoid its touch.
Instead of bashing into his body, the arms clang against the glass of the tank. Leehan winces.
“Oh?” Doc Ock’s brows raise curiously, striking it again to earn a second reaction. “You don’t like it when I do that, huh.” Not a question, just an observation.
Leehan’s temper rises as he continues to get provoked, almost getting distracted from dodging the next swipe of arms. The Doc only guffaws at Spider-Man’s surprising weakness.
You see it too—the delay in his reaction time, his movements more frantic and unplanned. It’s a danger to himself.
Pulling out your phone, you turn on the speaker for the comms and whisper into it. “Don’t panic.”
Leehan’s change in demeanour is immediate. Your voice is his lighthouse—the rope that guides his motion back to safety and sanity.
Every order you give him, he follows without doubt. From where you squat, your vision is limited, and the shadowed room is of no help through your phone camera, but you close your eyes and try to recollect the floor plan of the level, mentally mapping out the math required to pilot him through the maze of tanks and fish, directing what kind of kick or jab would get him through with minimal injury.
It’s terrifying to know that his life is in your hands,…but he’s relying on you, and that’s all that matters.
Unfortunately, the Doc is quick to catch onto your tactics, scarily perceptive. “Who’s in your ear? This isn’t a one man party is it…”
Leehan winces again, and his opponent knows he’s just found a bigger weakness—perhaps even Spider-Man’s Achilles’ heel.
He sneers at the discovery. “Bingo!” Doc Ock’s arms smash into the glass behind Leehan, leaving a giant crack that splurts water out through it. Before Leehan can react, he backtracks away, not fearfully, just…towards where you are.
“DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE-” Leehan is yelling now, frantic with every step the man takes in your direction. “-THIS IS BETWEEN ME AND YOU. NO ONE ELSE."
“Hmm, apparently not.” The Doc grins eerily, trudging away.
Leehan can’t think straight, but then there’s a voice in his ears, calm and pragmatic as always.
“Mend the glass with your web.” You say.
He exhales once, and does as told. The stream of webs shoots out through his wrist and pastes itself like a thick blanket over the cracks, holding it together for the time being.
By the time he sprints over, the man is hovering over you while you slink backwards against the wall, a fiercely unafraid look in your eyes.
Leehan knows it’s a bluff; he knows your pride—knows you.
“So this is your little girlfriend, huh?” Doc slurs, creeping his robotic arms closer to you. “This should be interes-”
His sentence blows into a pained huff as Leehan lands a tight kick to his chest, right over where his heart should be.
Forgoing banter and moves for show, Leehan simply punches to hurt now, a fist flying into any part of the man he can get a hand on—his jaw, the curve of his skull, even an elbow digging into his ribs without mercy. You’ve never seen him like this—angry.
“I told you-” Leehan enunciates each word with a punch. “-That this was between you and I, you jerk.”
By the time he’s done, the man is a jumble of webs, metal arms, and bloody wounds. Sirens blare outside, footsteps approaching soon after, police radio going off somewhere distant as you begin to get escorted away.
“Wait-” You reach for Leehan, needing to know if he’s alright.
Instead of welcoming you into his arms, he turns away, voice taut when he says to a nearby officer, “Take her to safety. She’s still a student.”
Your heart stops at his chilly tone.
“Bu-” The protests die in your mouth when you feel yourself being tugged away by a woman in uniform, one last look of Leehan’s torn back burning into your wet eyes.
In some sick, twisted way of the universe granting you your wish—everything changes overnight.
It’s bright outside, but it’s raining—a sunshower. Your mom calls it a fox rain, and you've always pictured two foxes in love getting wed to each other in a dewy meadow every time it happened. But today, all you feel is gloom.
You’ve tried calling Leehan several times, but each time it goes straight to his voicemail—a jingle from some television ad he used to watch as a child. His mom tells you he isn’t feeling well, holed up in his room from a fever, but you know that’s a lie when Spider-Man still shows up on the news—both under articles that praise him for his deeds, as well as those that criticise him for his shortcomings.
“Spider-Man lets go of two wanted criminals this month—is heroism truly worth it?” —The titles are brutal, no acknowledgement of the lives he has saved.
When you try to access the comms, you find that he's shut the feed off from his side, nothing but static in your ear. He’s gone complete radio silence on you.
You want to be there for him, see if he’s okay—but at the same time, your pride is sharp and unforgiving.
Your frustration only gets worse when you fumble around everywhere to find your penguin keychain and come up short.
“He’s so mean.” You mumble into his jacket that he had left with you, laying squished up against your pillows, letting a sniffle out as a tear drops onto it. Your chest hollows at the realisation that his scent has begun to leave the material, and you might never have it back again. “Mean and stupid…stupid, stupid, Leehan.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” Comes a voice, quiet.
Your head whips over like it has many times before, and like all the other times, Leehan sits perched on the sills of your half-open window.
Leehan, not Spider-Man—no suit to be seen, hair and shirt drenched, glasses askew, jeans soaked with dark splotches, and that wrecked look on his gentle face.
“Leehan?”
“Y/N.” He gulps, not crossing over the boundary.
You find yourself getting up, inching closer, but you stop two feet away from him, wary of his comfort around you now.
“You’re mad at me.” You say, wiping at your wet cheeks.
He shakes his head. “I could never be.”
You see him dig into his jeans pocket, fishing out a metallic trinket—the penguin keychain—yours. He tosses it to you and you catch it in one hand.
“You dropped it inside the gift shop.”
He'd gone back for it. But a ‘thanks’ struggle to make it past your lips.
The air is stiff around you and it’s hard to breathe when he looks at you like that, eyes rimmed with fatigue, something fragile behind it you’re too scared to test.
Finally, after searching your face for what feels like an eternity, he whispers, “You shouldn’t have come back inside there,...I told you to stay.”
Your fist tightens. “You needed me.” It’s factual, no space for argument. “You would have died if I hadn’t-”
“AND YOU WOULD HAVE DIED IF I WAS A SECOND TOO LATE.”
You freeze.
Leehan is huffing wildly, eyes blown wide in exasperation and his teeth gritted. Once the first few words spill out, the rest follow like a freight train, “He could have hurt you, he almost did! I told you-”
“YOU DON’T GET TO!” Now you’re matching his volume, anger and sadness bubbling up. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, I don’t answer to you, Spider-Man.”
His jaw tenses at the way you address him—distant, cruel—like a suckerpunch to his innards, worse than any hit he's taken.
“And what about me—Leehan?” He asks.
Your voice is tense. “What about you?”
“...Do I mean nothing to you?”
His voice cracks around the edges, making your fingers twitch to reach out and smoothen the furrow on his forehead. You dig the keychain into your palm to stop yourself.
Then you say, “If you meant nothing, why would I have run back inside to look for you,...why do I always look for you?”
“You-” He shakes his head. “It’s not safe.”
“You should take your own advice.” You bite back, furious. “Did I not say it before, did I not make you promise to keep my friend safe? And you’re still jumping into danger like some cocky hero with a savior complex and no survival instinct.”
“I didn’t-”
“Yes. Yes, you did. You were turning into less of Leehan and more of Spider-Man and I was there to see all of it.”
“I just-” He sighs. “I just wanted you to like me.”
“Yeah?” You scoff. “And now?”
“...Now...I don’t know if we should…”
And that does it. If you were heated before, your anger slowly stiffens into something harsher, his words seeping in like excuses than worry.
“If you don’t want me anymore just say so, I don’t like wasting my time or yours,” you say, beginning to turn away.
That should be it; he should leave, never come back, and put an end to this ugly in-between stage that your friendship balanced on—always running, always a good-bye and never an admission of feelings. It should end there, but-
“Don’t you get it, Y/N?” Leehan sounds broken. “I wish I could be selfish...I wish I was allowed to want you.”
Raindrops rattle against the glass panes of your window. The world is in limbo, and your mind is a suspended mess of thoughts.
“Why can’t you just…want me?” You don’t turn around yet, but your voice is desperate beneath the exhaustion, shoulders slumping as the weight of his words come crushing down onto your chest. “Why do you have to ask…why can’t it just be you and me, both Y/N and Leehan, and Y/N and Spider-Man?
“I was your friend first, and then your partner. You don’t get to push me away as either.”
You twist to see Leehan’s eyes soften, to hear him say, “I’m scared to lose you.”
It’s not an I love you, but from him, it might as well be the same.
“You won’t.” You stand your ground, taking one step forward. “I won’t let you.”
A wistful laugh escapes him, quiet. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Y/N.”
Another step forward, and you whisper, meeting his eyes with a weak smile, “Yeah, but those are the best kind.”
Neither of you know when it happens—when the tension finally snaps.
A shuffle of feet, Leehan’s other leg moving across the ledge and into your room, the sound of water dripping off his clothes and onto the carpet. He’s ripping his glasses off with one hand to abandon it somewhere on the floor, the other coming to curl around your waist, your feet leaving the floor as he lifts you up. Your hand finds the line of his jaw, cool under your touch, and the keychain slips out of your hold.
Kissing him is like being starved of oxygen and having the first taste of it all at once. It’s frantic, messy, heated; his hair is sopping cold under the tangle of your fingers, lips warm against yours. He kisses the same way he rambles about fish—a string of frenzied excitement, afraid that he'll lose foothold if he were to stop once he starts. And you really did miss his rambles.
Your mouth moves before your brain does. “Eager, aren’t you, bug boy?” You smirk against him, but he’s dipping back down without granting you a response.
You don’t protest—not when he leans down deeper, pulling out a soft gasp from you. Not when the back of your knee bumps against the bed frame, and definitely not when you end up tangled over the blanket, grinning into the smaller, less languid kisses that follow.
“I like being the only one who gets to see you like this,” he admits as he nuzzles into your neck, “messy and not the perfect school prez everyone knows.”
Your eyes narrow, tone dipping in warning. “Are you saying I’m not perfect?”
He freezes against your shoulder, blinking like a deer in headlights. “I-” He coughs. “That’s not what I-”
Just like you thought—it’s still fun as ever to tease the poor boy,...or you suppose, to tease your ‘boyfriend’ now.
“Have I told you you’re cute when you’re scared of me?” You grin, poking at his cheek as he sulks.
Leehan doesn’t complain though, despite what his puffed out cheeks might imply, not when he finally gets to have you.
He doesn’t leave for the night. You fall asleep in his arms, not a care in the world that your clothes are soaked to the core, sticking to skin uncomfortably.
When you wake up, the sun is still shining, glinting against the keychain and glasses on the floor, and Leehan is still snug against you, and his jacket finally smells like him again.
Being Spider-Man might just be one of the best jobs in the world.
6:30 AM
It’s routine now, not in need of a narration. He perches, he listens, there’s a fight, yada yada yada…
His moves are snappier now, no wasteful energy lest you scold his ears off for it—banter not completely abandoned, but only because he enjoys hearing you chide him through the comms when he throws out another pun at a fray criminal that has both you and the poor guy groaning in exasperation.
7:15 AM
With more time during summer mornings, he spends them either chasing after robbers, or protecting civilians on the road in the more accident-prone spots. Your voice echoes in his ear, your smile in his mind, and it keeps him going.
7:50 AM
Shiny buildings flash past him as he swings above the city, the crowd below looking like ants in his vision. He’s always been speeding—chasing after things, running away from feelings, scared, awkward, too timid to try. But for once, he really looks.
The city is really beautiful from up here, he thinks.
8:00 AM
In between his daily missions, he always finds time to drop by your window as you multitask working on your inventions while also keeping his comms active. He’s hanging upside down, more like a bat than a spider, eager for you to come greet him.
“Hey there, bug boy.” You grin, reaching over to pull his mask down, letting the long strands of his brown hair flop downwards. He’s pouting, so you correct yourself with a roll of your eyes. “Hey there, babe.”
This earns you a sweet smile.
You lean in, placing a gentle peck over his upside down lips, drawing out one of his signature blushes.
Some mornings, he’ll tell you to go sleep in even when you protest. On others, he convinces you to join him, pretending like you’re on some grand escapade as he swings with you in his arms, careful as ever to not let you go.
He admits it—being Spider-Man is one of the best jobs in the world. Even if it comes with public scrutiny and pressure, he knows he can do it as long as he gets to return home to your proud expression and safe arms.
He loves the way you say, “Go get 'em, bug boy” and how he gets to respond with a cool “Will do, babe”, even if he’s grinning like a fool behind his mask.
There are several perks to being Spider-Man—there’re the awesome super-powers of course, the celebrity status, the admiration he receives from civilians and villains alike…they’re all great.
But Leehan has to admit—nothing really beats being your boyfriend.
𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ──ORIGINAL | SEQUEL | FINALE [½] | [2/2]
SERIES MASTERLIST
ᯓᡣ𐭩 this is in honour of 21 turning 21 today—happy birthday to the man spiderhan of my dreams aka the projection of all my nerdy fanatasies! may all your fishes wishes come true ᯓᡣ𐭩
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