Imagines

Peter Parker - The Amazing Spider-Man -

People say relationships are hard. I don't think they have the liberty to say that unless they are madly in love with a man whose face they have never seen. Yep, that is right. I am in love with a masked man. Spider-man to be exact.

Now, don't think me to be one of those crazed fangirls on the streets who shrieks, "HOT DIGGITY DAW!" every single time they see a superhero in spandex swing by, because I am not one of those girls.

See, this love isn't one sided. He loves me too. We just haven't exactly reached the level of identity being revealed. To be quite honest, I have no idea when that level will be reached. (starts singing Nick Jonas, "Levels"). We've told each other multiple times that we love one another, heck we have even kissed...

*****************

-flashback-

"So I am guessing this is your version of a perfect date?" I tease.

Spider-man and I were sitting on the rooftop of a skyscraper overlooking the city. 

"Well, when you are wearing a mask, it is a little hard to go into a fancy restaurant. People would think I was trying to rob them or something." 

"I think they would be fine with it, considering you are Spider-man." I reassure.

"Nowadays people can't really tell the difference between Spider-man and a vigilante." He sighs. 

"Well, they don't know what you're really like. They are wrong about you." I say, resting my hand on his shoulder. "I know that you are someone who will stop at nothing to save the lives of those around you. You are brave...very strategic...I could never figure out how to take down my enemies...and altogether completely selfless. I love you for that. I love you..." I pause for a moment, "insert name here, for who you are inside." 

He places his gloved hand on my cheek, "I love you too."  

We press our foreheads together and remain like that for a silent moment. 

"Close your eyes." He says softly, "Don't open them until I say."

I do as he asks. Our foreheads part for a moment and soon lips meet mine. I freeze in response.

His lips.

His mask covers his lips...

He isn't wearing his mask.

I resist the urge to open my eyes and gaze into his own, but instead kiss him in return. 

I place my hand on the back of his head, meeting what I would guess to be medium length hair, and rest my other hand on his cheek.

Our kiss is long, yet not passionate, the both of us being rather conservative in that matter. We remained with our eyes closed and our heads pressed together for a few moments longer, until he drew back. "You can open your eyes now." He says. 

When I do, his mask is once more in place. 

"Who are you?" I whisper.

"I wish I could tell you." He says, "I really do. But the more you know about me, the more danger you will be in." 

"I'm willing to be in that danger." I say, "I love you."

"I know you are." He says, taking my hand, "But I am not ready to subject you to it." 

"Will you ever be?" I ask.

He looks down, and his silence tells me that the answer is no.