… Aidan Quinn
MJ walked beside me, steady stride, chin up — like she didn't care I'd ghosted her all week or shown up late.
I liked that. That mix of pride and curiosity. Like walking next to a girl who was dead set on not falling for me… and slowly losing that battle.
"You disappeared the whole week", she said, not looking at me. "I figured you were gonna bail."
"I'm not that predictable."
"Oh really? I never know if you're gonna show up or vanish in style."
"Well, I showed up. Style included."
We turned the corner and stopped in front of the car. A matte black Mazda3 hatchback, dark rims, sharp headlights. Quiet enough to not attract cops. Pretty enough to turn heads if I wanted it to.
She looked at the car, then at me.
"It's yours?"
"Fully mine. And tax-paid, if the cops ask."
Raven picked it out, using the money that keeps mysteriously piling up in my bank account. Like I thought... not even Raven can resist spending free money.
But I gotta say — she's got taste.
"I expected a motorcycle… or some car that explodes when you start it."
"That's my 'drifting through life' ride. Today? I'm a guy headed to a party with a sarcastic girl who looks way too good to be real."
I unlocked the doors. The inside lit up with that soft amber glow. She got in without saying a word… which, coming from MJ, was basically a compliment.
The engine purred like a happy cat when I turned the key.
"Wanna pick the playlist?" I asked, buckling my seatbelt.
"Only if you swear you're not one of those guys who thinks experimental jazz sets a 'vibe'."
"No promises. But I'll try not to piss you off in the first five minutes. After that… you're on your own."
She smirked and crossed her legs, adjusting her dress a little higher on her thigh.
"Before I forget…" she said, turning to the window, "We need to stop at Gwen's place."
"Gwen Stacy?"
"The one and only. She's going with Peter."
I raised a brow as I turned onto the main road.
"Parker's your date?"
"He's Gwen's date."
"And you?"
"I'm mine. You just got lucky and made the cut tonight."
I let out a soft laugh.
"So I'm the exception?"
"Haven't decided yet. But… nice car. That helps."
"If you knew what came with it…"
She shot me a look that said "not buying it" with a hint of "maybe later."
"Take it easy, Quinn. Still not sure if you're the kind that's worth it… or just the kind that plays the game well."
"And you, MJ?"
She turned her face toward me.
"I'm the kind that never plays alone. So if you wanna play… just know I always hit back."
The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It was loaded. That good kind of tension — like right before a kiss… or a perfectly timed jab. The radio played something mellow. City lights shimmered off the matte hood, and next to me, she looked calm, composed…
… while her fingers tapped softly on her knee, just restless enough to give her away.
...
Stopping in front of Gwen's house felt oddly nostalgic — even though it was my first time. The kind of suburban street that looked stuck in the '90s, where the biggest danger was a busted fire hydrant or someone's mom yelling for you to come inside for dinner.
I turned off the engine, and MJ unbuckled her seatbelt with that slow, practiced motion of someone who already knew someone was gonna be late.
"They said five minutes", she muttered.
"Which translates to fifteen. Twenty if Gwen decides to change her earrings."
MJ laughed, and we sat in silence for a moment until she turned slightly toward me.
"It's weird that you go to our school."
"Why's that?"
"Because you don't act like someone who… you know, deals with chemistry tests and angry teachers confiscating phones."
"Maybe I'm just a really good actor. Or maybe I'm just… passing through."
"That's just vague enough to be hot and annoying at the same time."
"It's a gift."
The porch lights came on, and the door opened. Peter walked out first, wearing that face that screamed, "I'm trying to look casual but I'm painfully aware of my own existence." He'd tried to gel his hair.
It had gone wrong.
Gwen came out right after, adjusting her dress strap and whispering something to Peter that looked like, "Relax, he's not gonna bite."
She spotted me and waved. MJ unlocked the doors for them to get in.
"Well, well…" Gwen said as she climbed into the backseat behind MJ. "Quinn actually showed up."
"Is that really so rare?" I asked.
Peter answered as he slid in: "Aidan only shows up to class when the universe needs to remind us that unpredictability is a rule."
"And he still pulls good grades", Gwen added, fixing her dress.
"Dark magic", Peter concluded.
"Competence", I corrected.
MJ shook her head, smiling.
"If he vanishes next week, now you know why. Ego overload."
"Only inflates if you compliment me", I teased. "And you've already given me two today."
"Doesn't count."
"Totally counts. I keep score."
Peter cleared his throat. "This is starting to sound like one of those fanfics people post in the school's secret group."
"You're in that group?" MJ asked, surprised.
"Got added against my will."
"Sure", Gwen said. "'Against your will,' and yet you bookmarked the chapter where Black Widow hooks up with Captain America."
The car burst into soft laughter. That kind of easy banter that only happens between people who've known each other long enough to know exactly where to poke and when to stop. And between MJ's laugh, Gwen's shy glance in the mirror, and Peter's adorable discomfort...
The night was already worth it.
...
The Osborn house looked like a postcard straight out of one of those movies pretending rich teenagers have real problems. Automatic gates, glass-and-steel façade, wide staircases with built-in lighting, and a front hall that reflected more of the family patriarch's ego than any actual taste. But Harry was a good guy — the type who lived like he was in a cologne commercial but still knew everyone's name in class.
"I'm never gonna get used to the fact that Harry lives in a building with two elevators just for his floor", Peter muttered, adjusting his collar as Gwen pulled him along by the hand.
"It's over the top", Gwen said with a smile. "But it's the kind of extra I enjoy."
MJ, walking next to me, looked way too relaxed for someone who claimed not to care about these kinds of parties. Tight dress, perfect hair, sharp eyes.
And now, with every gaze turning as she walked through the hall with her arm linked through mine, it was pretty clear she knew exactly what she was doing.
"Do you usually come to places like this?" she asked in a whisper.
"Not with this much light."
"The lighting's pretty low."
"I meant attention."
"Welcome to the real world, Quinn. Here, judgment comes with the buffet."
Harry greeted us right at the entrance to the terrace. Button-down shirt open, easy smile. Hair styled in that perfect "I'm rich but pretending to be chill" way.
"MJ! Gwen! Peter!" he called, giving Gwen a quick kiss on the cheek. "And…"
He looked at me for half a second.
"You're the guy who disappears, but everyone talks about."
"Gotta keep the aura alive", I replied, shaking his hand. "Thanks for the invite."
"I didn't invite you."
"Well, I showed up anyway."
Harry laughed.
"I like him", he said, pointing at me. "Hope you've got good taste in music."
"Only if there's vodka involved."
He nodded toward the bar with his chin.
"Help yourself."
Gwen and Peter slipped off toward a group by the pool. Harry got swarmed by a circle of friends who were all way too rich to be wearing socks.
That left MJ and me alone for a moment. The music was low, atmospheric. Light bounced off the surface of the pool, throwing soft, dancing ripples on the glass walls.
She turned to me, eyes half-lidded.
"So now what? You gonna go mingle?"
"Only with you."
"That a pickup line?"
"That's performative honesty. Gotta stay in character."
"What character?"
"The mysterious guy who skips school, shows up at rich people parties, and steals the attention of the hottest girl there."
"Hm. It's working."
She stepped a little closer, fingers gently touching the chain around her neck — like she was distracting her body from reacting too obviously.
"But if you disappear again next week…"
"You'll pretend not to care."
"Exactly."
"And if I don't disappear?"
"Then the game changes."
The air between us thickened. People walked by, music kept playing, voices echoed… but it all felt far away. The party was just set dressing. She was the main event.
And right then, Mary Jane Watson was leaving the door slightly open.
It wasn't an invitation. It was a challenge.
And me, of course… I was ready to take it.
… Mary Jane "MJ" Watson
The Osborns' side terrace was the kind of spot no one thought to look when they wanted to escape the noise. MJ had discovered it at a previous party — when everything inside became too much and the city, even blurred by glass, felt more real than any drunk face in the hallway.
Inside, the muffled thump of music vibrated through the floors. Over-the-top laughter and the heavy mix of expensive perfume and alcohol floated in the air like a constant reminder that no matter how pretty that world looked, it was still just a stage full of people acting.
But it wasn't the silence that reached her first.
It was the footsteps — soft, careful, and for that very reason… unmistakable.
She didn't need to turn to know.
It was like the air changed when he entered a space. Like something denser, something soaked in intention, seeped in through the edges.
"Escaping?" he asked, in that tone that always felt halfway between a joke and something more dangerous.
She didn't answer right away. Her eyes were locked on the city lights — gold stripes dancing between the buildings.
"Breathing", she said eventually.
"Need help with that?"
She turned her head and saw that damned smile on his lips.
"You don't have an off switch, do you?"
"Only when you look at me like that."
She wanted to shoot back. Maybe laugh. But she couldn't. Because for the first time since he'd shown up at her doorstep that night… she realized her body was on edge. Skin too sensitive to the breeze. Neck warm. Heart racing from feelings she refused to name.
She studied him sideways — the way he leaned against the railing like he had all the time in the world. The way his eyes took her in slowly but with a kind of intensity that made her feel stripped down… even in the most perfect outfit she owned.
"You always play like this?" she asked, quieter now.
"Like what?"
"Like everyone around you is a piece… and you already know how the board ends."
He took his time responding.
"I only play with the ones that matter."
The sentence just hung there between them — and she hated it. Because deep down… it hurt. Because it was too honest. And she already knew that.
She looked away, bit her lower lip, and felt the tension spike. That ridiculous urge to say something — anything — just to make him step back.
But she didn't want that. Not anymore.
She wanted to see how far he'd go.
Aidan stepped forward — just enough to close the space between them.
"If I told you you're making me way too curious…?"
"I'd tell you not to get used to it. I'm not predictable."
"I don't want predictable, MJ. I want you. However you come."
Her stomach dropped. Throat went dry. Her whole body reacted like he'd touched her — even though he hadn't moved an inch more.
And just when she thought maybe… maybe she'd say something reckless — the door opened.
Ashley Kensington.
White dress, fake smile, high heels, and a perfume so sweet it had to be on purpose.
"Aidan Quinn!" she called, like someone born to ruin movie climaxes. "I knew you'd come. I said it earlier, like… you're all mysterious and stuff, but I knew it!"
MJ froze. Not because she felt threatened — but because she knew this type. Way too well.
Ashley didn't even see her. Walked straight up to Aidan, touching his arm with those perfectly manicured fingers like she already had some claim — like he was a taste test.
"You look ridiculously good tonight. Seriously. That shirt… it's begging to be ripped off, right?"
MJ felt something twist inside. A sudden, sharp need to grab Aidan by the hand and make it very clear that here — on this terrace — he was hers.
And the worst part?
She knew he noticed.
Aidan didn't even give Ashley more than a glance. His eyes… stayed on her.
On MJ.
But Ashley kept going.
"We should talk later. Somewhere less… boring."
"I'm already talking", he replied, tone light but layered with a warning.
Ashley paused, voice faltering, but forced a smile.
"Sure. If you change your mind… I'll be by the pool."
And just like that, she walked off quietly.
MJ didn't breathe for a few seconds. Then she let the air out slowly — but the heat in her cheeks was still there.
Aidan didn't say anything. He didn't have to. She turned slightly, eyes on the city, shoulders tight.
"You seem pretty comfortable with that kind of attention."
"I get used to a lot of things. But… with you here? I don't need to look at anyone else."
She closed her eyes for a second and smiled.
Who was she trying to fool?
Mary Jane knew exactly what she wanted the moment she invited Aidan to this stupid party.
If he kissed her now… she'd let him. Because it wasn't about resisting anymore. It was about when and how.
"That's dangerous, Tiger."
"Only if you let me walk away, MJ."
And she knew it was about to happen. She could feel it in the way Aidan looked at her — like every heartbeat had been rerouted to just one place: her.
And she could feel it in her own body — fingertips cold, lips warm, chest heavy like something was trying to break through.
Mary Jane Watson had always been good with words.
Sarcasm, wit, that carefully polished charm. But now? None of it mattered.
Because when Aidan took that first step — slow, like giving her time to back out — she didn't move. And when he raised his hand to touch her face, palm warm against skin chilled by the breeze…
She closed her eyes. She didn't say yes, but she didn't have to. The way she tilted her head — like she was tilting her entire world — was more than enough.
Aidan kissed her.
And it felt like all the tension between them — all the teasing, the sharp lines, the glances, the pauses — collapsed into a single touch.
His mouth was firm, hot, addictive. The kind of kiss that didn't apologize for happening. His hand slid to her waist and pulled her in, like their bodies already knew how to fit together. She melted into it, like she'd been waiting for this without even knowing it.
Her hands climbed to his shoulders, then the back of his neck, then tangled in his hair. And the kiss… deepened. Their tongues met like they were meant to, like they'd been waiting for the green light. MJ's breath caught. Her body leaned in. Her chest pressed to his. Her hips aligned with his, hot, every inch of her buzzing.
The whole city could've caught fire and she wouldn't have noticed.
Because on that balcony, with Aidan's arms around her, his mouth giving and taking in the same breath — she felt more real than she had in a long, long time.
And when they finally pulled back — because they needed air, not because they wanted to — she didn't move away.
She stayed close, forehead resting against his, eyes still shut.
Then she whispered.
"Damn…"
Aidan smiled against her lips.
"What?"
She opened her eyes, saying what she couldn't say out loud — just with the way she looked at him.
"You're a fucker, Tiger."
She grabbed his collar and kissed him again. And in that heat, in the taste of something that had waited too long, in the chill racing down her spine…
Mary Jane stopped hiding behind clever lines.
… Peter Parker
The sound of the party faded as they moved away from the main area.
Peter walked beside Gwen, hands in his pockets, heart beating slightly out of sync. This wasn't the kind of situation he usually handled well. Fancy places, borrowed clothes, loud music, and people with last names that opened doors.
But with her next to him, it all felt… manageable.
Gwen walked with steady, unhurried steps, like she was leading without making it obvious. Every now and then, she'd glance over her shoulder, laughing at something he said — or pretending to, maybe — and Peter tried to keep it together. She wore a light dress that moved with the night breeze. Her hair was tied up in a high bun, exposing the back of her neck, and Peter had to look away more than once so he didn't seem like he was staring too much.
"You're quieter than usual", Gwen said, turning slightly toward him.
"Oh, no, I'm just… just thinking."
"Thinking a lot, I'd say", she smiled, and her eyes seemed to ask questions her mouth didn't. "Maybe about me?"
Peter opened his mouth to answer — something between a "yes" and a nervous cough — but Gwen just laughed and pulled him toward a small side staircase. One of those tucked-away balconies on the second floor.
The city stretched out in front of them like a blanket of lights. Down below, the cars looked like toys. Up here… it was just the two of them.
"Thought it might be nice to get away for a few minutes", Gwen said, stopping near the iron railing, resting her arms on it and looking out over the street.
Peter swallowed hard. Gwen looked amazing and was way too close. The air felt charged with something… undefined but intense. He thought about saying something clever, or honest. Or anything, really.
But then she turned to look at him — slowly — her eyes locked on his, and something shot through him like a needle of electricity.
Spider-Sense.
Peter froze, and it didn't take Gwen long to notice.
"Peter?"
He didn't answer right away. His gaze was already scanning the horizon, body instantly on alert.
And then…
A cold, distant laugh — twisted and grotesque. Like the sound had crawled out of a nightmare and slipped through the buildings to grab his spine.
"He's here…" Peter whispered.
"What? Who?"
Gwen straightened up, confused, but Peter was already stepping back, his body torn in two. One half still caught in the scent of her perfume… the other drowning in danger.
"Gwen, I… I have to go. Now."
"Go? What are you talking about? Peter, what's going on?!"
She grabbed his arm, and for a moment… he almost stayed.
But he couldn't.
That laugh came again — closer now. There were screams in the distance.
"I swear I'll explain later", he said, his eyes full of everything he couldn't say.
She wanted to understand, but he didn't have time for words — so he ran.
Not because he was scared. But because being Peter Parker meant living in halves. Half moments. Half feelings. Half promises. Nights broken by sounds only he could hear.
And now… that sound had a name.
Green Goblin.
And Peter knew, without a doubt…
… people were going to get hurt.
Unless Spider-Man did what he was born to do.