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unholyhelbig · 8 months

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legit scared for the last chapter of 🕷

[A/n: Not going to lie, I was a bit scared too. I actually hate writing fight scenes and never fail to write myself into a corner with them. Seriously though, this was fun, thank you all for reading!]

Title: Magnetic

Ship: Kate Bishop x gn!reader

Disclaimer: I did not proofread, if there are mistakes, I'm sorry!

Trigger warnings: Blood, Fighting, major death, grief

Main Masterlist | Ao3 | Request Prompts | Join my Taglist!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five]

Summary: Reader is a spider!person from earth-2099 and Kate Bishop is curious about why she's so drawn to them.

“Spiderman.” The word pressed against the length of your spine in an electric shock. It had been uttered around you before, chaste and with disbelief. The way it was spoken now, in the echo of an abandoned building as rain pounded against the structure, was an insult. A mockery.

You felt the floor shift under your weight, your palms a graveyard of half-moons. Your lungs burned, refused to constrict, or release. His features were shaded, all except the white of his fanged smile.

“Oh, my darling child, don’t tell me you haven’t been practicing. Your mother, she was always so insistent that you practice.”

Was.

The word struck like a brass bell. You fought against a wince that wanted to surface, digging your heels in at the prospect of showing weakness. What had he done to her? Time worked differently in other universes, across the space continuum. On 2099, she could have passed naturally, but you highly doubted that.

You felt the pulsing ache in your jaw, knew that your canine teeth had broken through your soft gums with a dripping purpose. It you ran your tongue against them, they’d surely cut flesh, the venom-soaked claws ripping the fabric at the very fingertips of your suit.

“You have my undivided attention,” You spoke, surprised by the sureness of your tone “Enough games.”

He laughed humorlessly “Games? Y/n/n I’m here to bring you home. There are no games, no tricks. Is it impossible to believe that I want us to be a family again?”

Your gaze flicked to Miguel, looking for some type of pained reaction, the quiver of his lip, the furrow of his brow. He stood statue-still, looking past your shoulder with his arms tucked behind his back as if her were a soldier. As if he were waiting for your father’s indication that he could pull in a breath.

“You… took my family.”

“No,” He fretted “I took a liability. And look at you now! With nothing holding you back you’ve survived dozens of worlds. You’re stronger for it.”

He stepped into the pale light that filtered through the boarded windows. For the first time in a long time, you got a good look at his elongated features. There were bags under his eyes and an unnatural stubble against his jowls.

“There’s something about you, Y/n. Something that made what I’ve been working for my entire life work. At first, I thought it was your mother, something in her bloodline that mingled with the serum. But your brother, he failed me.”

Miguel remained motionless, though his eyes moved to the floor. There was a sick, squelching crack that drew your attention back to your father. He had relaxed his shoulders, released the tension that he was holding back. There was the natural urge to back away, but you held your stance as six cracking legs emerged from his back, oozing with a dark liquid that flicked the already ruined floor. He let out a sigh of relief that rushed into a growl.

“I hate to make things casual, y/n/n, but family doesn’t judge. Do they?”

Your eyes gave you away as they always had. Just like the music that you had studied from a young age, there was something in the fear that seeped from your gaze that made him smile. He’d injected himself, God knows how many times, with the same serum that he used on you. Silently, you counted your blessings, though they were small.

“I am only going to ask nicely this one time. Come home with me. We can make history, change the world.”

The legs sprouting from his spine crackled and popped as they moved on their own, taking in the surroundings. You held back the nausea that built within your stomach, swallowing the acrid taste in your mouth.

“Our world?” You took a step forward, “you took that from me when you murdered Kate and watched her die in my arms. You knew how much she meant to me, how much she means to me. There is no world worth changing without her in it.”

“That’s fine,” his breath was hot on your cheek, his scent rotted like freshly tilled earth. Your spider senses were setting off every single alarm, hair standing up on end. “I don’t need you. I just need your blood.”

One of the legs rushed past you, aiming directly for the center of your chest. You were quick with your movements, ducked in time for the splintered edge to rip through your shoulder with a blinding pain.

You pushed away, shooting a web towards the nearest loose board. You pulled it with enough force to hit the back of your father’s head. It collided with a hollow noise, snapping his head forward. A low blow- but enough to disorient him for a few seconds.

Two of the legs moved forward, came down against the floor with enough force to splinter wood. You jumped back, away from their sharpened edges but into a cold solid figure. Miguel had moved behind you, quickly wrapping an arm around your mid-section, the other across your neck, squeezing slightly. Instinctively, your elbow shot up, crunching into his nose, loosening his hold.

Glass shattered on either side of you. Yelena slid across a clad floor, Cassie not far behind, stumbling for only a moment on her feet before she regained composure. You fought the urge to roll your eyes at the Widow’s dramatics, but grateful all the same.

You dug your feet into the floor and pushed back with enough force to shove Miguel into the wall. His spine collided with a support beam, and he released you.

“What the hell is that?” Cassie panted.

“My father,”

Yelena winced “Nasty.”

He smiled all the same, his skin waxy and pale. There was a squelching noise as flesh split and pedipalps pushed through his cheeks with a bloody drip, his teeth elongating, dripping with saliva.

“Hey big guy!” Peter called out from the open doorway of the room. He had his mask pulled down, his eyes narrowing under the fabric as your father turned around and stretched himself out with a popping motion. “Oh, really big guy”

Miguel landed a punch on the right side of Cassie’s face. She was knocked back into Yelena, who shoved her forward again before leveling him with a blow of her own. You made eye contact with Peter who shot webs at his loafered feet.

You aimed for the wrists. If he was restrained, then he would be easier to take out of the picture. Two long strands that you pulled down with all of your might to bolster him to the floor. He struggled against it.

“You brought backup” he garbled, “I’m impressed.”

Your father ripped through the sticky webs. With a quick movement, you slashed your claws against his soft side. He howled out in pain, turning with enough quickness to use one of his many trodden legs to push you across half the room. Against you better judgement, you hugged it close, digging your legs in despite the unfamiliar feeling on your chest.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!”

“Hold on!”

Peter was shooting a web at the strongest looking beam on the ceiling, hoisting himself up. You could hear a struggle on the other side of the room, watched out of the corner of your eye as Cassie shrunk down.

Peter’s feet collided with the center of your father’s chest. It sent him backwards as he collided with a wall. You clenched your eyes shut and held on tighter to the one thing that made you feel stabilized, despite how disturbed it was.

The two of you moved through insulation, drywall and a few stray bricks. Wood splintered around you and the damp smell of outside filled your lungs. You both landed on the asphalt six stories down.

“Sorry Y/n!” Peter called down past the ringing in your ears.

It took a few seconds to blink the stars from your eyes, but you were quick to scramble to a standing position. Your body ached, you father took a few moments to gain his own composure but you used a bout of strength to collide the tip of your boot with his stomach.

“Here’s the thing, dad. You took everything from me.” Another kick to the ribs, his legs fizzling. You knew it was low, but you didn’t want to give him the chance to stand, not until you spoke. “I’m your child and you used me as a lab rat.”

“I made you stronger,” He rasped, spit a stringy patch of blood to his side. He looked up and smiled, teeth stained a russet brown. “Better.”

“You injected me with a trial serum hoping that it would work, but deep down, you were hoping it wouldn’t. I was always a failure to you. Why would this be any different? Why would I impress you?”

You delivered another kick to his abdomen, a soft spot not protected by his writhing legs, his hissing exterior.

“I think you were shocked, father, when I didn’t die on that table. And through that shock was anger and envy. You didn’t kill Kate because she distracted me, you killed her because she meant everything to me, and you couldn’t stand to see me happy.”

A giggle bubbled from his throat that soon turned into a maniacal laugh. It echoed off the alley walls, stretched its fingers to the sky. Clint shot an arrow across the gap of buildings, using his bow to carry him into the massive hole in the front of the building.

Kate had her own bow nocked and aimed at the center of your father’s chest. It would shift each time he did, little movements that Kate expertly tracked. She breathed, waiting for a moment to step in. She was patient, and so were you.

“What gave you the right? What gave any of you the right!” He was yelling now, slowly making his way to his feet. The legs sprouting from his back twitched as he hauled himself up. The feelers that protruded from his cheeks poked around. “I deserve to reap the benefits of my science. All of my work wasted on you!”

You sprung forward and swiped at him listlessly with the long, sharp nails digging into warm flesh from his collarbone to the hem of his pants. Deep, black blood started to spill, blooming like flowers against his chest. He rumbled at you, legs whooshing past you.

He swiped one under your legs, dropping you to the damp pavement. Two others pinned you by the shoulders to the ground. They pressed with enough force to break skin, you could feel them snap bone, a scream ringing out that mixed with his own.

“So impulsive,” He laughed, “Child, you underestimate my ability to get exactly what I want.”

Another pointed leg was against your throat. You grasped at it, squeezing hard. You could hear the exoskeleton sputter under your touch. Even with your feet kicking listlessly at his midsection, he overpowered you.

Blood filled your mouth, sweet and metal. “Fuck… you”

An arrow cut through the air with enough precision to pierce your father’s eye. The arrowhead was halfway through his iris, and he let out a guttural howl in response. He released his hold and the third kick you delivered knocked him back as he struggled with the arrow.

You were back on your feet, someone helping you haul yourself upright. You panted, “Kate, you can’t be down here.”

She cut you off, using the edge of her thumb to wipe away a smudge of red at the corner of your lip. “You’re getting your ass kicked out here and everyone else is handling your brother. Your dad’s gross.”

“I’ve been told,” You laughed weakly “Nice shot, by the way.”

“Thanks, babe. Want to win this thing?”

You nodded, watching as he ripped the arrow from his eye, throwing it down with a clang. He stretched up and smiled quietly at the archer, blinking his one good eye. “What are your intentions with my little one?”

“Well, we’re going to kill you and then… I don’t know, wanna do pizza and a movie?”

“I could go for pizza.”

The man/spider hybrid in front of you sounded off in annoyance. Spit dripped from his pinchers. He rushed forward with tremendous speed and agility. Kate nocked another arrow, watching carefully as you ran towards the man who had turned you into what you were today; scared, and tired, and oh-so hellbent on revenge.

You pushed off the ground, giving yourself leverage against him. The first hit that you landed was at the base of his jaw, cracking away at it. His legs scratched at you haplessly. Kate’s arrow found a sweet spot at the joint of his leg, bringing him down to one knee.

One of your hands gripped at his shirt, ripping the wicked fabric, the other was at his jugular, nails pressing just below his chin. You could feel how fast his pulse was working, the stubble against your fingertips. Just a little pressure and it would all be over. He smiled at you, ghastly and inhuman.

“Do it,” he taunted “kill me.”

Kate was breathing heavily behind you, ready to fire again. When you allowed yourself to glance up at the abandoned building, a constant in the tedious fighting, you could see the silhouettes against the dull moonlight. Peter, Clint, Yelena and Cassie. They watched you carefully.

“You belong to me, Y/n. You’re much too weak to finish what you’ve started.” He licked the blood from his teeth, nearly deerlike. “You were too weak to save Kate. She’s better off without you. Can’t finish one simple-“

You clenched your eyes shut, applying just the right amount of pressure to cut through skin. Blood coated your fingertips, warm against the raging storm. Red washed down the gutters and you let him fall in a pile at your feet.

All of you watched him for a moment that seemed to stretch on forever. You waited for movement, for that last spurt of life that would have you stumbling back. But there was nothing. His mind was finally quiet, as was yours.

“Kate…”

The word was barely audible over the rain, the scent of copper filling the streets. You hadn’t meant for her to see this, to see any of this. Despite the misfortune and the experiments, you still prided yourself on keeping your hands clean. Now they were muddied, in front of an audience, no less.

Her warmth engulfed you from behind, her bow having hit the ground, arms snaking around your midsection. Your legs gave out, a sob tearing from your throat. Kate let you cry, she held you as you shook and fell to your knees, moved with you.

“Shh,” Kate soothed, breath hot on your ear “It’s over. It’s over.”

One Month Later

The keys of the piano felt like home underneath your fingers. Their soft ivory exterior moved with a certain quickness. Each note flowed through the air, wafting between the tables, through the flickering yellow flames and the plates of gravy-soaked lamb.

There was something so simple about music. Each movement told a different story, the waltz of a ghost, the crack of a frozen pond under booted feet, blood soaking into a ruffed collar. The last image made you clenched your eyes shut until they hurt. You saw stars, pressed D-minor with enough vigor to draw a few glances.

Gary watched you from the host stand and you gave him an apologetic smile. You eased your shoulders into complicity. He stopped short of bending his plastic clipboard in half in a feat of misguided strength.

A small breath escaped you. Concerto in D Minor. There was an eerie subtly to the piece that often made you flip to the next one on your roster, but tonight, tonight you allowed yourself to indulge in the deep melancholy.

Silver clinked against glass, and this time, you didn’t bother looking up. You could smell the rosemary and mint as Kate lowered herself onto the bench next to you. The wood creaked and groaned under your combined weight. She watched you for a few moments, listening to the deepness of each note, each stab of the knife that was interluded with the softest of apologies.

“This is quite depressing, don’t you think?”

“D Minor is a beautiful key.”

“Beautiful, yes, but depressing all the same. I think that man over there is crying into his Coq Au Vin.”

You smiled at that. Not the mans tears, or the fact that he was trembling over a dish that was already much too salty for your tastes. It was Kate’s ability to crack a joke, even after you had spent a month avoiding her, avoiding most of the world around you in turn for shifts seated right here.

At first, you chalked up the grieving process. Despite all the bad that he had done, he was still your father. He was the same man that would bait your hooks when the O’Hara’s and the Bishop’s went to their adjacent lake houses. There were distant memories of him drawing molecular structures on the sidewalk with chalk, and even fresher recall of those same structures being used to alter your DNA.

After the first week, holed up in your dingy apartment, Yelena brought you a can of soup. You did not have a can opener or a bowl, which she scolded you greatly for, but eventually sat down cross-legged and spoke to you about guilt.

“It is never easy to take a life, even if the motives behind your actions are good. It will haunt you for a long time, but it will possess you if you board up the windows. Do you understand?”

She left you with the unopened can, a stupid chef smiling at you from torn paper. Your stomach still clenched at the thought of eating so you left it on the counter and crawled back onto the mattress pushed into the corner of the room.

The second week brought the outside world to your doorstep once again. Clint had left a message on your machine, explaining that two S.W.O.R.D agents would be coming by to interview and catalog you as an inhuman. This was in exchange for holding Miguel, a small price to pay for his incarceration.

They too judged your lack of home-décor and cutlery, but their prying eyes felt like a bigger insult. You felt like a stranger in your own home so you finally showered and dragged yourself to the restaurant.

“There was a death in the family. I apologize for my lack of notification. I can start tonight if you’ll have me.”

Gary was not thrilled, but he was even less thrilled about the prospect of listening to auditions for another lunch-hour and settling for a crackling boombox on top of your beloved piano.

The second you pressed a note, the warmth of your first kiss with Kate flooded your body. You’d do anything to keep that feeling- and God, had you fucked up with this universe’s Kate. She had done so much for you, had assembled a team to help you create a home. And yet, shutting yourself away seemed as close as you could get to running.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

The words were a whisper, but she was close enough to hear it and some of the tension in her stance released. When you looked at her, when you finally saw her, you nearly lost your composure. The emotion threatened to gush from your chest. Her eyes looked green in this light.

“Y/n, there is no timeline for grief. I didn’t expect-“She frowned, struggled to pick out her next words carefully. “I lost my father when I was young in the battle of New York, and I will miss him forever. Sometimes the pain is dull, and sometimes it’s the loudest thing in the room.”

You swallowed the cold lump in your throat, grimaced and looked down at the keys. Tears escaped you, creating a sheen that you dipped your fingertips in each time you moved to the next note. Kate’s warm hand found your back, rubbed a gentle circle against it.

“If you ever need someone to help silence it, you know where to find me.”

Kate Bishop lived right across the hall in a dingy apartment building that was overpriced and didn’t have a callbox that worked properly. When it rained, and it did often, the cracks in the structure would leak and the elevator was always out of order.

That night, you finished your shift and didn’t knock on her door. The following night, you stared at the one crack on the ceiling that looked a bit like a face, and a camel, and a monkey and a bird. Your fingers tapped against your chest with each phantom eighth note.

On the third night, however, you allowed yourself to knock on Kate’s door. She tripped over something, a muffled curse coming from the other side of the rotted oak. Though, she had regained her composure by the time she opened the door, her hair in a messy ponytail, strands framing her face.

“Hi,” You breathed.

“Hi” She breathed back.

Your hands gently made their way to the collar of her sweatshirt. She let out a surprised noise that melted into a tender breath as your lips met hers. Kate’s nose was cold, and her hands pressed you close to her, as if she couldn’t get close enough. You kissed her delicately, but desperately all the same, callous fingers tracing her jaw.

“Thank you,” You mumbled against her lips, not noticing the dampness of your cheeks until her thumb brushed tears away.

“For what?”

“For showing me that this is worth fighting for.”

Taglist 💜: @lovelyy-moonlight

#Kate Bishop #Kate Bishop x reader #Kate Bishop x y/n #Kate Bishop x you #Reader Insert #Peter Parker #Yelena Belova #Cassie Lang #Clint Barton #Spider!reader #Marvel #Marvel reader insert #Hawkeye #Hawkeye fanfiction #Hawkeye the series

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