Peter Parker ▹ Spider-Man | imagines

golden | AU (final)

category: series
subcategory: alternate universe — soulmate
ex. a universe where every individual is meant for another; it is up to the universe whether they are found

previously: can't we just be in love and kiss already?
continuing: just promise me forever

third person
warnings: maybe language, fluff, teenagers being teenagers
word count: 1,958
6:05 pm | what do you do when you carry the world in your hands?

It was golden hour in New York.

Have you ever heard of golden hour? It's a time that photographers scramble to shoot in, a time where the sun meets the horizon, a time when it is not really day and not really night. You can see the stars, but the sun is still saying her goodbyes. Red, orange, pink, blue, violet; the colors are all one at this time, and instead of being the dull brown that artists claim they must become, it creates a gold that paints everything in a color they could only dream of creating.

It was the light that Peter was watching you in now. You were sitting on the curb. It was the like the second time he met you; when you were jotting down coat colors and looking like summer in winter. He remembered how you smiled at him when he shared the sweet cinnamon treat he was gifted for giving good directions. Your lips had looked increasingly delectable with the colored sugar coating them. He hated remembering how hard it was not to give into his urges; it was a difficult gift to be able to resist your soulmate.

It was nearly spring, and that would mark three months since Spider-Man had fallen at your feet. Three months since he went blind to everyone but you, three months since you had fallen in love. It came unexpected, and you were falling before you even knew what was happening. As if one moment you were standing on two feet, and the next moment the ground had gave way underneath you.

"S-Sorry I'm late!" Peter stuttered, emerging from around the narrow alleyway by your apartment building. His hair was sticking up in every direction, and you bit your lip when you noticed the sweater he was wearing over his checkered polo was worn backwards. You let out a giggle as he scrambled to sit beside you, letting his backpack slide down his shoulders.

"I wasn't going anywhere," you assured him, resting your elbows on your knees, your head in your hands. Peter blushed a little, still admiring your features in the glowing sunlight. "Your sweater's on backwards, by the way."

Peter became flustered all over again, stuttering as he moved to fix it. He grew red under your gaze, and you couldn't help but laugh at him under your breath. He could still hear you. He always heard you. When he fixed his appearance, you still had a quirky smile on your face as you admired his hair.

You moved one hand in his direction, smoothing it through his curls. The tangles broke apart between your fingers. Peter let his eyes flutter shut as they raked through, his hair falling back into place, silky and smooth. You admired the milkiness of his skin, the smooth surface that was his jawline. He was mesmerizing at this hour. His skin was freckled with the most beautiful light. Could you love him anymore than right now?

You pulled your hand away, and a nervous smile came over him. He wanted to take your hand again. Peter missed you all the time, but he never realized just how much until he was beside you. The touch that he seemed to craze all the time was tangible when he sat next to you, and any moment that your fingers weren't on him was a moment wasted.