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The city stretched out beneath her like it belonged to someone else.

Gwen sat on the edge of the rooftop pool in nothing but a sheer white mesh crop top and a black thong that barely existed, golden hour light sliding across her wet skin. Blonde hair (still tipped in that soft pink she never bothered fixing) framed freckled cheeks and that little mole above her brow. Blue eyes half-lidded, soft smile playing at the corner of her mouth like she already knew exactly what she was doing to anyone who might be watching from the glass towers around her.

She shifted, leaning back on her hands, then turned so the mesh clung tighter across her chest. Later she dropped to her knees at the water’s edge, looking back over one shoulder with the city glowing behind her. The thong disappeared between soft cheeks. Water beaded along the curve of her spine.

Gwen Stacy used to swing between buildings in a mask and hoodie.

Tonight she didn’t need either.

The mesh was already soaked through. The thong was already useless. And the slow, knowing look she gave the skyline said she had no intention of putting anything else on.

Some people save the city. Gwen preferred to own the view.

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