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#peter parker series
asonofpeter · 25 minutes ago
Can't Escape | V
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Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
Summary: Life moves fast out in the suburbs, you live the perfect life with your mother and father. But when you start to crave for more meaning in life than just Westview, your mother does everything in her power to make sure you don’t leave. Can you ever imagine what’s on the other side of Ellis Avenue?
Warnings: Angst, making out, implied sex, Wanda, fluff
Word Count: 5844
A/N: AHHHH part 5! I’m so happy with this chapter! Disclaimer: Reader is not biologically related to any of the characters mentioned in this series. That is intended so that anyone can read this. Reader's back story will be revealed as the series progresses but for now, this will be taking course like WandaVision. Also note that any photos in the moodboards don't define the Reader's appearance, it's simply for the sake of the moodboard. Thank you all for the love and support! Don’t forget to reblog to show your support! Enjoy! 💕💕💕
*Don’t repost, translate or copy my work without my permission*
The sounds of the twins crying filled your ears.
You were trying to study for the SAT, before you felt a headache come along, but now you just felt aggravated.
You hastily shot up from your seat at your desk, a few flash cards and pencils flying about from the sudden movement before you walked out of your room and down the hall.
“Mom, I’m begging you, please use your magic or something,” you hurried down the stairs, your teased bangs flying in front of your face.
“Sweetie, I’m trying,” she pleaded, cradling Tommy in her arms, turning around to face you.
“Please go get the binkies,” she nodded her head towards their direction, but your dad appeared with them shoved in his ‘ears’, making you and your mother laugh.
“Love the new look, Dad,” you joked, nodding your head.
“Thank you, dear,” he smiled, shoving your shoulder playfully.
Once the cleaned binkies were placed in the twins mouths, it was quiet, until they decided to spit them out, the room filled with their cries again.
“Howdy neighbors!” the distribution was disrupted by Agnes, her gym attire blinding your eyes.
“Hi Agnes,” your mother greeted, sounding cheerful.
Your father zoomed past the two of you, a pillow covering his face as he changed to his human look. You moved closer to your dad, partially to conceal his real identity but you still couldn’t fathom that sense of uncertainty around Agnes.
“I hope the twins didn’t disturb you,” Wanda played with her hands, a smile on her face as Agnes made her way down the steps, placing her gym bag by the couch.
“Oh well I was just on my way to jazzercise when I noticed the babies were on a sleep strike,” she joked, hands placed on her hips.
Her stance was very bouncy and lively.
“Who told you?” you father asked, taking a step towards her, you taking this as an opportunity to shield yourself from her.
“Uh, my ears,” she bluntly said, everyone laughing as you let out a nervous laughter, moving closer to your father, you hooked your hand around his arm, letting him know you felt wary around Agnes. “Well I got a couple of tricks up my sleeve to help out.”
“Oh, Agnes, you’re a lifesaver,” your mother thanked, instantly your eyes widened in shock as you saw Agnes approach the twins.
Quickly your father reacted, listing different precautions before he decided ultimately it wasn’t a good idea, your head shaking enthusiastically in agreement.
All of you stood awkwardly in the living room before Agnes spoke up.
“Do you want me to take that again?” she asked, shifting from one foot to the other.
You furrowed your brows, cocking your head at her question. You saw her glance over to you and you felt a chill run up your spine.
You sense it too.
You need to help me put her to a stop.
You blinked.
The cries of your brothers rang through your ears and you saw Agnes go through the liquor cabinet.
“Vis, we haven’t slept in days, she’s just being neighborly,” your mother had Vision to the side and you wondered how long you were spaced out for when the twins finally stopped crying.
“Where are the twins?” your parents gasped, not finding them in their bassinets.
Your heart dropped as you looked at Agnes, thinking she was the culprit, but she was simply sitting on the counter.
“Mommy? Daddy?” two small voices called behind you, your gaze finding two little boys.
“Kids,” Agnes spoke up from her spot. “Can’t control them,” she chuckled as she drank from a glass.
“Hi,” your parents cooed the twins over, your body still in shock at their sudden growth spurt.
They hurriedly ran into their arms, your mouth wide as you stared at them in awe.
You were so glad you didn’t have to change dirty diapers anymore.
“Captain Rambeau, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Peter shook her hand. “Y/N and I are big fans of you,” he passed a smile, Monica returning the gesture, a solemn look on her face.
“Thanks, nice grip, kid,” she commented, noticing the way he gave her hand a tight squeeze, she figured she could make light out of the conversation, for the sake of the teen boy and for herself.
“Yeah, thank you,” he stumbled out, red rising on his cheeks at the compliment before he stepped back to let Bucky make himself known.
“Sergeant Barnes,” she directed her attention to Bucky, shaking his hand.
She remembered hearing about the myth of the Winter Soldier as a kid, the idea of a killer not matching the look of his current state.
“Captain Rambeau, thank you for offering your help after everything,” his lip curled upwards, Monica’s heart wrenching at the sight of him.
He was now a father who only wished to have his daughter back.
“Of course, Wanda is in pain and your daughter,” she trailed, Bucky already knowing what she meant.
“Why do you say she’s in pain?” Peter asked, sounding a bit defensive, how could the culprit be in pain?
Monica opened her mouth, trying to find the right words, empathy filled her eyes.
“Being in there,” she began. “No thoughts were my own, they were Wanda’s and all I felt was pain and grief,” she inhaled deeply, her shoulders falling as she ended her sentence. “I don’t think what she is doing is intentional,” she looked between the two.
Peter felt a bit apprehensive, but he quickly excused himself from the room as Darcy and Jimmy came in.
Bucky took a deep breath, processing her words.
Surely Wanda wouldn’t put you in harm's way, not after everything she promised him, not after everything she’s done for you.
Letting go of his breath, he nodded his head. He believed Monica, she knew what she was talking about because she actually experienced the world Wanda put up.
He needed to have faith.
The five of them found themselves in the same spot they were put in when they first arrived, every agent listening to Jimmy start the brief- or rather try.
“And earliest tracking had her using her powers against the Avengers. Is that correct?” Hayward asked Jimmy, the man continuously cutting off the FBI agent to make Wanda seem more terrible than what she actually is.
“Right before she earned their trust and became one herself,” Jimmy defended, shooting his new friends a look.
“Lagos and Germany, we all know how that turned out,” Hayward dismissed Jimmy. Jimmy mummering something under his breath that Peter wholeheartedly agreed with.
“Surely we can look beyond her past, can we not?” Bucky suggested, arms crossed over his chest, knowing how it felt to be judged for their past.
“I think it’s safe to say that with most recent events, no,” Hayward answered. “Last time I checked, you were excused from your government mandated therapy to be here?” he implied, Bucky being taken aback, growing more insecure as the room judged him.
What a literal ass.
“Now we know that Wanda is the main victimizer, we don’t know what kind of terrorist agendas she holds,” Hayward read through the files, going back to what he thought was important.
“Wanda isn’t a terrorist, she’s mourning,” Monica explained, cutting him off. “Clearly this is a sign that she doesn’t know how to handle it,” she stated, gesturing around for emphasis.
“You said the experience was excruciating,” he used her words against her. “With all due respect, we can’t narrow down the possibility that an enhanced is simply mourning when the outcome is this,” Hayward commented. “And not to mention we don’t know what Y/N will do once she awakens.”
“You really think Y/N poses a threat too?” Peter straightened up, fury flashing through his eyes. “How dare you,” he was going to charge at the man, but Bucky stopped him.
Peter reluctantly stopped, his head dropped in defeat before he shot a look of disgust at the man.
“I can assure both Wanda and my daughter do not pose as threats,” Bucky sneered. “We shouldn’t try to overpower Wanda, she needs our help,” he confessed, backing Monica up.
“She shot you across the city,” Hayward directed back to Monica. “You almost died.”
“But I didn’t because she chose to protect me,” she retorted, growing frustrated at not being heard.
Just then, Hayward decided it was best to show the team “highly classified footage”.
“Wanda broke into SWORD Headquarters and resurrected him upon creating this reality,” he spoke as the screens showed security footage of Wanda breaking glass through a lab.
“That’s a violation of the Sokovia Accords,” Peter spoke up, remembering that lesson in his history class.
Vision never wanted to be used as a weapon.
He was now more convinced that Wanda could actually be harming you intentionally.
“Exactly,” Hayward nodded. “That’s it for now,” he dismissed everyone.
“But how did she bring him back, without the mind stone?” Jimmy asked, the five of them left in the briefing area.
“Who knows,” Darcy replied, leaning on the table.
“Why is she having Y/N play a part of it?” Peter drummed his knuckles on the table, brows furrowed as he thought of every possibility.
“Well who knows what’s gonna happen when both Vision and Y/N find out the truth?” Monica brought up the five of them staring at the monitor showing a painted picture of you standing beside Vision, your arm placed on Billy’s shoulder; a big smile on your face.
“Tommy, Billy,” you groaned, regretting your decision to check on your brothers the moment you stepped into the kitchen.
You found them standing by the sink, their bodies shielding you from something.
“I know you squirts are hiding something,” you cocked a brow, arms crossed over your chest.
“Please don’t tell Mommy,” Tommy turned around, giving you access to see the little puppy inside, bathing, your hard gaze softening.
“Where did you find the little guy,” you cooed, picking him up to dry him off.
“In the yard,” Billy answered, the twins following you around.
“Well I don’t know how Mom will feel,“ you shrugged, tilting your head as you placed him back on the counter.
“Feel about what?” your mom came strolling in, hands placed on her hips.
“Uh, nothing, just messing around with my lil bros,” you turned around, holding the puppy in place behind your back, Tommy and Billy standing on either side of you, both of them eagerly nodding.
“Kids,” she cocked her head to the side, giving an all knowing look.
“I swear they put me up to this,” you raised your hands in defense, a bark sounding from behind you, your mother’s brows raising in shock.
“We found him in the yard,” Billy began.
“Alone,” Tommy added. “And scared,” he gave a puppy dog look to match the one of the little furball.
“Taking care of a dog is a big responsibility, they need food, exercise, cuddles,” your mom grabbed the little guy, petting him, her mind contemplating. “And whittle kisses behind his whittle ears,” she scrunched her nose, kissing the pup.
“Good morning, wife and kids,” your dad strolled in. “And an unfamiliar wet animal?” he stopped in his tracks, slowly placing the newspaper on the table.
“Honey, why so formal?” your mother noticed his human appearance, handing you the puppy back.
His response with the fear of the unexpectedness of someone and you couldn’t help but agree with him and just like that-
“Agnes is here!” your father stated, rather a bit unenthusiastically. “With the exact item we require” he trailed and you sensed the way the wires in his brain moved.
She smiled, winking at your father as she sat the dog house down.
“My kitchen window told me you got a new pooch!” she smiled, bending her knees slightly to reach the boys. “Have you thought about a name?”
“What about Sniffy?” Billy suggested, noticing the way the puppy sniffed around after you placed him down.
“How about Sparky,” Agnes said, the poor puppy yelping when he electrocuted himself.
“Well, should we make it official?” you mother beamed, conjuring a dog collar right in front of Agnes.
“Wanda,” your father gasped, matching the same expression as yours, your mother not seeming to care.
You walked towards the boys and Anges, keeping an ear to your parent’s conversation.
“What aren’t you telling me?” your dad asked, voice laced with worry and you caught a glimpse of fear and betrayal written over his face.
You felt your heart pang, hoping whatever was going on with your parents, they could fix it.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, parents argue all the time,” Agnes placed a hand on your shoulder, that same chill running through you. “You should count the number of times my dear Andy thought Ralph and I were gonna divorce,” she teased.
You passed her a smile, before you turned your attention to Sparky, deciding it was best not to draw too much attention to her.
“So is Sparky our dog, Dad?” Billy asked.
You picked up the little pup in your arms, the three of you staring at your parents, pleading to keep him.
“Not until you two are ten,” your mother said, your father coughing the number under his breath.
“Wait!” they both exclaimed, your twin brothers aging up half a decade right before your eyes.
“Let’s just hope Sparky stays the same size!” Agnes laughed behind you.
You only forced another laugh, hoping she left soon enough.
“C’mon, boys, let’s show Sparky the ropes of this house,” you nodded, leading them out of the kitchen.
Peter spent the morning watching WandaVision while half paying attention to Monica, Darcy and Bucky’s conversation.
Seeing you brought a smile to his face. Even if you were under Wanda’s control, you still acted like yourself, the only difference is that you don’t know you have powers and you don’t remember anything before Wesview.
“Okay, okay I think I know a way in,” Monica breathed out, capping the marker as she looked over her work.
“Wait, you’re not seriously thinking of going in, are you?” Bucky asked, taken aback, he had been watching Monica write different equations down, trying to remember how much he learned from his high school days.
“Wanda needs help and the quicker I can help her, the faster you’ll have your daughter home,” she pointed out, making Bucky sighed out in defeat.
“Have you identified the twins yet?” Jimmy strolled in with coffee in his hands, handing one to each of them, Peter graciously taking his.
“Oh, Wanda’s twins are hers, everything in there is real,” Monica clarified, turning around to face the group.
“So if everything is solid matter, then she’s wielding an insane amount of power,” Darcy said, Peter nodding along, now paying attention since Andrew made his appearance on screen.
“More than what she’s shown in the past,” Jimmy added.
“Well she could’ve taken out Thanos if she wanted to,” Monica cocked a brow, leaning on the worktable.
The name made Peter pause, his heartbeat racing when flashes of the battle and Tony dying filled his brain.
“Umm, I’m gonna go get some fresh air,” he stuttered, running out of the room, his pace causing a breeze to brush past the two women.
“Is he alright?” the three questioned.
“He and Tony Stark had a close relationship, it’s been a tough time for him,” Bucky explained, the three nodding in understanding.
“What are you doing?” Peter smiled, resting his head against the headboard while you climbed over his lap.
“I wanna try something,” you said, grabbing his hand in yours and placing it in the middle of your chest.
You saw him panic, you two haven’t explored your relationship that intimately yet, but you made sure to let him know it wasn’t that.
“Wanda and Vision have this thing where they can feel each other, because they’re connected with the mind stone,” you began, placing your hand on his chest.
“I figured because I have always been able to sense everyone around me and you can too, we could have something of our own,” you smiled, looking down at him.
He had the most adorable eyes, his brown orbs staring into yours, an admiration across his features.
“I love you so much,” he said, his ears already filling with your heart beat.
Slowly but surely, you felt his heartbeat mimic yours and you felt a state of peace in that moment.
“I love you too,” you pecked his lips, before snuggling into his hold, chests pressed together.
Over the course of your relationship, your connection grew stronger, being able to sense eachother miles away, hell, even lightyears.
And then one day you scared the shit out of him when you appeared in his thoughts.
“We could communicate telepathically now!”
You surprised him while he was at his locker and you were in class, causing all of his books and papers to fly out of his hands.
Being able to sense his reaction, you took advantage of startling him any chance you got.
“You look so cute today, Petey.”
“I love how your muscles look in that shirt.”
“Wanna make out after school today?”
You loved how you made him blush easily and secretly he loved it too.
Now standing on the perimeter of SWORD’s base, he sniffled, wiping away some tears as he looked out, the barrier staticing.
Was he tempted to go in and get you himself?
He did think about it before, but watching you fall in love with Andrew, thinking Wanda and Vision were your parents, he couldn’t fathom what Wanda would have him do.
He placed his hand on his chest, your heartbeat was slow and steady.
He knew it was because Wanda had control over you, you were growing weak as you fought against her.
But he also knew it was because the longer you stayed in there, the more you considered it being your reality, subconsciously letting her win and ultimately losing your connection with Peter.
He inhaled deeply, trying to stop the tears from falling.
I know you can hear me, Y/N. Just keep fighting.
He stood for a good few minutes, keeping his conscious clear in case you replied, but it was radio silence.
Letting himself calm down, he was going to go back inside before he was cut off by sirens and red flashing about, the barrier being broken through.
“You’re a really amazing kisser,” you mumbled against Andrew’s lips, hand grabbing onto his sweater that he wore, drawing him in closer.
“Can say the same for you,” he smirked, hand intertwined into your hair, pulling you close.
“I love you,” you said, his tongue slipping into your mouth, your head trying to block the way your heart clenched as the words escaped from your lips.
“You’re so cute,” his hand trailed underneath your sweater, your heart beating faster as his fingers danced over your spine. “Love you too,” he leaned in, moving you to your back.
You played with the hair on the nape of his neck, his short straight blond locks felt unfamiliar in your touch.
So abnormal.
You twirled the curly piece of brown hair you loved between your fingers, tugging on it slightly to erupt a moan from your boyfriend.
His hands gripped tighter on your waist, but he made sure not to hurt you before he slipped off your shirt.
“I want to go all the way,” he stopped, staring into your eyes to let you know he was being serious.
“Me too, Peter.”
“W-wait,” you stopped him. “It’s too soon,” you said, your mind drawing back to your room again.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he rambled, but you stopped him, a small smile on your face.
“It’s okay, thanks for understanding,” you cupped his cheek, pecking his lips once more.
“Well gotta make sure the star is happy!” he beamed, standing up.
You laughed at the funny nickname, wondering where he got that from.
“Wanna head to the record store? We could listen at my place,” he suggested.
“Is your mom home?” you asked, moving around to grab your shoes and bag, smiling when he shook his head. “Okay, perfect!” you exclaimed, a weight lifting off your shoulders.
As the two of you walked down the stairs, you were met with Billy teaching Sparky some tricks.
“Woah, cool moves, dude!” Andrew hyped Billy up, giving him a high five.
“Thanks!” Billy responded, jumping up and down.
None of you realizing Sparky decided to go on a small adventure.
“Wait! Sparky!” Tommy cried out, the dog finding his way out the door.
“Kids!” your mother called out, running after them, you and Andrew following.
Walking out into the front yard, you all spotted a drone.
“This is Captain Monica Rambeau.”
The voice rang through your ears, sounding very familiar.
All of a sudden the voice powered down, the drone firing up as it aimed at your mother.
“Mom? Where are you going?” you held onto Billy and Tommy as you all watched the drone above you.
You wondered how it communicated with you, but you were more worried when you saw your mother completely shoot it down with her magic.
You instinctively pulled the twins closer to you, shielding them from what happened.
“Mom?” you asked worryingly, her stance becoming stiff and angered as she walked over to the drone.
“Stay here, honey, I’ll be back.”
Peter and Bucky ran out with everyone else, the barrier turning red, the silhouette of Wanda appearing.
“Is this yours?” she threw the drone laced with her magic in front of the director.
“It was just a precaution,” Hayward dismissed. “You could hardly blame us, Wanda.”
“Oh I think I can,” her voice was laced with anger, her gaze darting around the area, not noticing two very familiar faces. “This will be your only warning, stay out of my home, you won’t bother me I won’t bother you,” she tried to compromise.
“You’ve taken an entire town hostage,” Hayward argued, the lasers aiming at her.
“I’m not the one with the guns, Director,” she shot back, unfazed by the multitude of guns pointed her way.
“But you are the one in control,” Monica spoke up, stepping forward, cautious of what Wanda is capable of.
“You’re still here,” Wanda spat, forming a red ball in her hands, a look of disbelief on Monica that Wanda feels the need to do that.
“Wanda, please, deep down you know I am an ally, I wanna help you,” Monica pleaded, approaching closer.
“What do you have to possibly offer me?” she softly spoke, irritation laced in her voice.
“What do you want?” Monica spoke hopefully, thinking she got Wanda to compromise.
“I have what I want and no one will ever take it from me again,” she spat.
“What about Y/N?” Bucky raised his voice, his voice strained with anger and hurt as he walked past the guards and Monica until he was in front of her, face meters from hers. “Is this what she wants?” he pleaded, his heart wrenching.
He saw the way her composure faltered, surprised to see him here.
“I gave her exactly what she wanted,” she cocked a smirk, taking the upper hand again. “Don’t you know that James?”
“Not like this, Wanda,” he shook his head, eyes begging at her to let his daughter go. “Out of everyone you should know this is not what she needs,” he gritted, pointing a finger at her.
“I know what she needs and no one is going to get in my way,” she bit back, swirling her hand before she flicked her wrist and she was mind controlling the guards to point their guns at Hayward.
Peter and Bucky watched as Wanda opened the barrier again, disappearing once more.
Bucky stood by the car, surprised that he’d see Wanda again. He was glad she made something of herself after Hydra.
Willing to fight in order to help him.
He knew she was probably going to ask where you were.
God, it broke his heart to leave you, but he couldn’t take you with him, not like this.
So even though Wanda was doing so much for him already, he needed one more favor to ask of her.
“Wanda, thank you for doing this,” he pulled her to the side, while everyone else changed.
“No problem, James,” she smiled. “Anything for family.”
“Thank you,” he breathed out, playing with his metal hand. “Umm, I need to ask you something else,” he began, Wanda tilting her head to the side in curiosity. “Y/N, she’s still in Romania, probably scared to death. Whatever happens, can you make sure she’s taken care of?”
“Of course, Bucky, I’m sure we could arrange something, I’ll find a way,” she touched his shoulder reassuringly. “I love her more than anything in the world,” she said truthfully.
“I want her to have a good life, have her go to a nice school, y’know, have her put that brain of hers to good use,” he cracked a laugh, making her smile grow wider. “You probably know her better than I do,” he joked.
“I promise.”
Bucky sat on the grass outside the tents, his gaze straight on the barrier in front of him, his knee bouncing up and down.
“Mr. Barnes, are you alright?” Peter asked, even though both knew the answer to that already.
“She broke my promise,” Bucky muttered. “I told her to keep her safe.”
“What?” Peter sat down next to him, brows furrowed.
“Wanda’s the reason my daughter had a good life for two years, the reason why she went to Midtown, the reason why she met you,” he clasped his hands together, resting his elbows on his knees. “And now she’s acting like she knows her better than me,” he sniffled, quickly wiping his tears away.
Peter awkwardly stared at him, figuring out what to say.
“I think Wanda is still in denial, she doesn’t know the full strain she is putting on Y/N and everyone else, but I can confidently say that Y/N won’t give up, I can feel her fighting, Mr. Barnes,” he looked at him before looking out into the barrier, hand placed on his chest.
When you grew older, you met Wanda at a Hydra base, instantly looking up to her. Her powers similar to yours.
At first she was a bit cold and mean, but you had a habit of making everyone fall in love with you.
After Bucky managed to escape from Hydra’s grasp, he took you with him and you spent a good two years hiding in Romania, but then Captain America showed up.
It was your fifteenth birthday that day, your father reluctantly letting you go out on your own after you tricked him in doing so.
You were devastated and scared when you came back to the apartment to find it all battered and beaten, your home looking much worse.
And deep down you knew it was your dad.
Only a week of hiding out in your home, dodging multiple police and secret service men, but finally- Wanda showed up.
She was older and looked like she’d been through hell as well. She appeared with a blond man, he looked familiar but you couldn’t pinpoint it.
Although, you saw the way they looked at each other.
“Your father is getting help, but I promised him that you will be taken care of,” she promised you, leading you outside to a car.
Her promise is what led you on a plane to America and in a city named Queens.
That’s where you met Peter.
You quickly became friends and it wasn’t until your second anniversary in America that he asked you out.
By then you had known each other, already in love with the boy.
But then seven months later and half the universe turned to dust, leaving you to watch your father die before you after seeing him for the first time in two years.
Your heart wrenched when you felt panicked, failing even when Peter warned you he was coming.
Then you turned to dust next to your father.
“I remember when Hydra used her against me, threatened to kill her if I didn’t oblige to the mission,” he spoke up. “She was barely five and she still understood what they were doing to me was wrong, she never blamed me for what I did,” he glanced down, eyes full of sorrow.
He thought back to the memories, your tiny frame always resting on top of his chest as he read you bedtime stories or when you would eat dinner together.
Hydra always let him be with his daughter, growing that bond, but he knew deep down it was so that they could use you as leverage to get him to do whatever they wanted.
You were much smarter than them though, using your powers to control their souls. You were such a devious little child full of power and destruction.
No wonder Hydra kept you.
But even with the powers you held, you always promised Bucky that you would never use them on him, knowing very well about his history.
“Look there’s a butterfly,” you cooed, one landing on your extended finger. “I love them so much,” you sighed.
“Seems to be a lot out here,” Andrew said beside you.
The two of you were walking home from the record shop, admiring the scenery and your day got better the moment you saw the little creatures.
Everyday seemed like the same old thing, every neighbor saying good morning the same way, your boyfriend taking you on the same dates all the time. It was getting boring.
Yet anytime you saw a monarch butterfly, they seemed to spice it up, reminding you there was more to life.
Walking closer to your houses, you spotted your mom, brothers and Agnes.
The twins seemed distressed, your mother trying to calm them down.
“Hey what’s wrong?” you quickened your pace until you reached them.
“Sparky got into my azaleas,” Agnes said solemnly, holding the puppy.
“What?” you gasped, pulling the boys into your sides. “I’m so sorry guys,” you sighed, shooting Andrew a look, your boyfriend lightly ruffling their hair.
Once your dad came over, things seemed to settle down a bit, thus prompting Agnes to open her mouth.
“Say Y/N, congratulations on making your college decision, keeping tradition running!” she congratulated you, her compliment making you furrow your brows.
“What do you mean?” you forced a smile.
“You decided on attending Westview University!” she said.
Your world stopped the moment she said those words.
How could your mother do this? Decide for you.
You sat through dinner quietly, waiting for the right moment.
Sitting on the couch, you waited for your mother to come back down stairs after she put the twins to sleep, your father burying Sparky outside.
Hearing her steps, you turned your head to her. She quietly ignored you as she went to the kitchen, making you huff out in anger.
“Mom! Why did Agnes say I’m going to Westview University!?” you yelled, following her into the kitchen. “Why can’t I go out of state, why do you want to keep me here!?” you seethed, growing irritated and annoyed and her constant acts of pushing this conversation to the side.
“Enough!” she turned around, her face inches from yours. “Why on Earth would you want to leave?” she baffled.
“Because I want more to life than just living in this stupid town, everyone does the same thing everyday!” you admitted.
“So you’re just going to leave everything behind, your family, your friends, Andrew?” she cocked a brow. “Haven’t I given you enough? You’re the captain on the cheer squad, smartest kid in school dating the quarterback of the football team!” she expressed. “What more could you want?”
“I don’t know!” you replied, proving your point. “That’s why I want to leave, but you’re treating it like I’m abandoning you guys,” you began to cry, tears streaming down your face.
The sound of the backdoor open alerted you both, your father walking through the door with a solemn look on his face as he washed his hands.
“We are done discussing this,” your mother finished, going back to grabbing toys and putting them in a basket.
“Dad?” you whined, asking him for help.
“Go to your room, dear, let me talk to your mother,” he replied, pushing some hair out of your face before bidding you goodnight.
“I hate you,” you gritted at your mother, the shock on her face made you feel guilty but you didn’t care as you ran up the stairs and slammed the door to your room.
Vision winced at the sound of the door slamming, looking up at Wanda to find her wiping a few stray tears.
“She doesn’t hate you, she just wants to know why you don’t want her to pursue her dreams,” he clarified.
“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I want her to go out into the world?” she shook her head. “It’s too dangerous out there for her, she doesn’t know the real world.”
“Shouldn’t that be up to her to decide?” he tilted his head. “You can’t control her the way you do others, you can’t control me the way you do to them,” he added. “What are you hiding, Wanda?”
“We’ll talk about this in the morning,” she picked up the basket and walked out of the kitchen.
“No, we’re discussing it now!” his voice grew louder. “What is outside of Westview!?”
“You don’t want to know,” she seethed.
“You can’t make that choice for me Wanda!” he pointed, his normal form appearing. “Norm has a family Wanda,” he tried to make his case.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Stop lying to me!” he flew up out of anger and frustration.
“This, all of this is for us,” she matched him. “So let me handle it.”
“I don’t know who I am, I don’t remember anything before Westview!” he shouted.
“You are my husband, the father of my children, Y/N, Tommy and Billy,” she lowered herself, Vision following.
“It’s more than that, isn’t it?” he said.
“You really think I control everything?” she yelled back, growing frustrated. “What do I control when they go to dentist appointments? To work?” she sneered. “You really think I’d let my own daughter say she hates me?” she sat on the couch, tears in her eyes.
“I-” he was cut off by the door ringing.
“That wasn’t me,” she said, but Vision’s face told her. “You don’t believe me,” her face fell before she got up.
As she went to open the door, she was startled by who she found.
Flashes of Sokovia and Ultron. Her brother’s death.
Her heart wrenched before she felt whole again.
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andilovetowrite · an hour ago
Punch to the Heart (Part 3 Teaser)
Peter Parker x Reader
Summary: After repeatedly blowing you off on plans, events and trips, you have finally had enough. But Peter soon regrets it as he sees the harsh reality of almost losing his best friend.
Based on a request, you can find it here!
Here is my Masterlist in case you want to find more of my work :)
Part 1
Part 2
Tagged: @a--1--1--3 @idkatee @eternalscribblesforthesoul@loudbluepancake @poisondevotion @scram1326 @t-hollanderr @305weasley @starknik22 @marvelfansworld @lou-la-lou @lomlparker @marvelfansworld @wowitsel @vanteguccir @fullcheesecakeengineer
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We’ve got he--r
Stay with us Y/nnnn
C’mon, try anythin--
Oh, thank go-
Words swam in and out of your head, floating in front of you and into your ears. Voices shouted from either side of you at some point. You could feel yourself slipping into some type of unconsciousness, with bright white light shining through your eyelids. You could hear Peter’s voice mix in with your parent’s voices. You could hear May’s voice and through some type of veil, you could hear Uncle Ben’s voice as well. Sure that you were hallucinating, you tried to open your eyes, but blacked out before you could try….
You regained your consciousness at some point, your brain making sense that you were unable to move your body. Which meant you were unable to move your eyes. But you could feel things. The blinding sorts of pain in your stomach and right thigh. The rough material of some type of gauze covering your entire lower body. Your back bare, with your front covered in a flimsy cloth. And for a quick moment, you thought you were back in the van, with kidnappers and terrorists. And the thought alone made you pass out again…
The last time that you woke up, you were hit with a multitude of sounds and noises. Carts being pushed, metal creaking, glasses clinking. You could hear voices as well. The soft drawl of some lady next to you, one that you vaguely remember. A comforting voice, one that you were familiar with because she woke you up in the mornings. Your mom. Another deeper voice trying to calm her down. Your dad. A worried, yet the firm voice that you knew since you went to her house every other day. Aunt May.
But one specific voice was loud and clear to you. High, slightly cracked, chocked up. A voice that you could recognize even if you were half dead. A voice that you grew up with, a voice that was by your side for years. A voice that now seemed to be crying softly from the other side of the room.
So with whatever energy you had left in you, you opened your eyes and whispered. “Peter”
The full part will be out probably sometime next week :) Hope you liked this tiny excerpt and can't wait to finish the whole thing. Until next time 😌
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borntobewondering · 2 hours ago
Fated, Part Two
Pairing: Peter Parker x Female!Stark!Reader
Synopsis: You and Peter hate each other, but some visitors from the future, and some unresolved feelings, may change your lives forever.
Word Count: 2.1k
Warnings: A curse word or two. Mentions of time travel. kinda angsty
Note: My work is not to be posted anywhere else on any other platforms. If my work is posted elsewhere on any other platforms it was put there without my permission. Also, I do not own these characters.
Masterlist - Series Masterlist
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“What?” Your father repeated his question and you could tell that there were too many gears turning in his head. And you didn’t necessarily like what conclusions they were leading him to. 
He turned in Peter’s direction, with his blaster aimed at the spiderling’s chest, and spoke with a tone of voice that you’d never heard from him in your life. “You got my daughter pregnant?” 
Peter’s eyes grew about three sizes, and you knew that he knew he was a dead man. 
“Mr. Stark-” But your father wasn’t having it.
“You have five seconds to run.” And run he did. You’d never seen Peter move so fast, and your father waited with a small amount of patience as he counted to five before he took off after his protégé. 
You turned back towards the two teens standing in front of all of you. “You have the wrong person. I don’t have kids.” 
“Not right now. But a few years down the line you will.” The boy started and you were far from convinced. 
You’d all faced people who were lying just to get inside your head. Even a few seemingly non threatening teenagers could be some kind of villainous masterminds. 
“Prove it.” You needed some way to believe them, and there wasn’t going to be a sure fire way. DNA tests could be tampered with, but not if they were done at the compound. 
“How?” The girl finally spoke up, her eyes barely meeting yours. 
“A DNA test.” Banner spoke up, and you nodded in his direction. “Come with me.” The two adolescents followed behind him as he led them to one of the labs. 
You knew everyone on the team was looking at you, and you didn’t really know what you were supposed to do. You could see Steve looking at you from the corner of your eye. 
“What?” You asked, not at all attempting to hide the agitation in your voice. 
“Aren’t you going to go with them?” He asked, for some reason he was expecting you to immediately care about those two kids just because they claimed to be your kid. As though you shouldn’t be able to take any time to process what had just happened. 
“I trust Banner. He can take care of it.”
“What about Peter?”
“What about Peter?” What should he matter to you?
“Shouldn’t you go and make sure your dad didn’t get to him?”
“As much as I would love that,” You said not at all sarcastically, “I have to go get MJ.” And with that you made your way back into the elevator. MJ was still seated on the floor in your bathroom when you came back in. She sprung up when she saw you and she practically tackled you to the ground.
“You’re okay.” She said under her breath, and you chuckled as you tried to take in a little more air. She’d definitely caught you by surprise. 
“I’m fine. Just a little bit of a shock down there. But everyone’s fine.” 
“What kind of shock?” She asked as she stood up and extended her hand in your direction.
“Apparently two people who claim to be my kids have traveled back in time to this very day.” You expected some kind of laughter at the absurdity of it all, but she just nodded. “That doesn’t surprise you?”
“Crazy stuff happens all the time. Nothing phases me anymore.” Fair point. “So what are you going to do?”
“About what?” You asked as you got up off the ground and went to sit at your desk.
“Your supposed future offspring. You can’t just leave them to fend for themselves in a time before they existed. It’d look sketchy if they went out saving the day before their alter egos are even supposed to exist.”
“How did you know that they’re heroes?” You asked, and all you got in return was an unamused look.
“Your dad is a superhero. You’re a superhero. You were raised around superheroes. Hell, I bet that their father is a superhero too.” Your silence was all the answer she needed, and that answer was so sweet. “He is, isn’t he? Oh this is just too good.” She was snickering to herself, completely ignoring the glare that you were sending in her direction. “So, which above average human is it?”
You mumbled something under your breath, it was so quiet that no person with average hearing would be able to pick up on it.
“What was that?” She asked, and you rolled your eyes to high heaven at her excitement over this nugget of information.
You mumbled once again, this time loud enough that she could hear you. But she wasn’t satisfied with just a few grumpy mumbles, she wanted to hear you say it. To hear you admit that she’d been right all this time. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
“Peter Parker.” Your voice was still quiet, but it was certainly enough. More than enough. MJ would never let you live this down. She was beaming, she’d never been so pleased to be proven right. 
“This is the best day of my life!” She said, her cocky smile prominently displayed as you groaned. 
“Please don’t rub it in.”
“But I want to.” She pouted, and you almost cracked a smile. Almost. 
“Can we please just figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do about this?” What was one supposed to do when their “kids” appeared out of thin air from several years in the future? 
“The first thing we’re gonna do is get some answers.” She extended her hand, and you took it as she led you through the compound. She walked as though she owned the place, but you didn’t even know where she was trying to take you. 
Eventually, after getting turned around about a million times, the two of you found yourselves in front of Banner’s lab. “You know there was a simpler way to get here.” You said, and she rolled her eyes.
“We’re here, aren’t we?” She walked through the doorway, and found who she assumed were the two teens in question. After a few seconds you finally gathered up the nerve to walk in there yourself. The kids were sitting down in spinny chairs as Banner was off by one of the monitors going over the results. 
“So, are they really her kids?” MJ asked, knowing that you didn’t want anything to do with all of this. 
“We really should wait until Peter gets here.” For an attempt at evading the question, it was enough of an answer in and of itself. 
You looked up at the two of them, and you noticed that their eyes hadn’t left you since you walked in. They had a strange emotion behind their eyes, one that you couldn’t quite place. It was like they were afraid you’d break into a million tiny pieces at any second. 
“What are your names?”
“Benjamin.” The boy spoke up first, and, after having a conversation completely through eye contact with her sibling, his sister followed suit. 
“Toni.” After your father and Peter’s. If you looked at them closely enough you could spot a resemblance. But you didn’t want to spot a resemblance. You wanted to be able to deny that any of this was happening. 
Before anyone could ask another question, the door opened and in walked your father and Peter. Peter’s eyes were glued to the ground and your father immediately walked over to the monitor. Reading over the result before turning back to face all of you. 
“They’re yours.” He said, and he could tell by your expression that you were anything but surprised. “Now onto the more important piece of this puzzle. How did you two get here?”
The kids shared another glance before speaking up, “It’s a long story.”
“We’ve got time.” Your dad said as he crossed his arms over his chest. 
The kids looked around for some kind of way out, hoping that either your or Peter would let them off the hook. But neither of you were budging. 
“So, a few years ago we were up against this villain. All four of us. This guy had sprouted up out of nowhere, and people were disappearing left and right whenever they went against him. We thought we could fix that. Put a stop to him and bring all of those people back. But that’s not what happened.” The girl began, and her eyes drifted back over to Peter. 
And when she trailed off her brother picked up, seemingly knowing that his sister wouldn’t be able to make it through the explanation. 
“That guy, he was a lot more powerful than we were counting on. And we didn’t know enough about his powers. So instead of us saving the day, we lost one of our own.” And everyone’s eyes, except for your daughter who was now looking at the floor, landed on Peter. “He sent you through a portal. Six years ago, and we haven’t been able to bring you back.”
“I would never let that happen.” Your dad said, and you knew it was true. He loved Peter like a son, and technically in their time he is Tony’s son in a way. Your dad would find a way to get Peter back to you. 
“You’re not really around anymore.” That’s quite a way to beat around the bush. To not come right out and reveal your father’s fate. 
“That still doesn’t explain how you’re here.” You finally spoke, and the two of them tensed up at the sound of your voice. 
“That villain disappeared after he sent dad through that portal. And no one had seen him, until two weeks ago. There were reported sightings of him popping up out of nowhere. So, we decided to investigate. We wanted his help to bring dad back from that portal. But he wasn’t really in a talking mood. And then he sent us through a portal, then  we ended up here somehow.” 
Everyone in the room didn’t have any hesitation in believing the story. They can’t dispute the existence of some future foe, how could they? They didn’t know what their future problems would be. 
But there was one thing nagging in your mind, and you couldn’t just let it slide. Everyone else’s future, save for MJ, had been addressed. Everyone but you. 
“What about me?” You asked, and the two kids looked at you. A little nervous about having to answer you. “Where am I in this future of yours?”
The room got very silent, everyone’s curiosity was piqued, and now you were just waiting for an explanation. 
“You, um, you are closed off. A bit of a wreck. You barely leave your lab. You haven’t stopped looking for dad since the day he disappeared.” Your “daughter” said, and it sounded like a roundabout way of saying that you had gotten to a point where you were ignoring your children. Your attention had been diverted from your own kids. 
What kind of a mother did that make you? You’d been ignoring them for six years. You nodded your head slowly, tapping your toe against the ground for a few seconds before you turned on your heel and left the lab, and everyone in it, behind. 
You could hear MJ calling after you, she knew you well enough to know that you weren’t going to be okay with any of that. To know that you turned out to be like your own mother. A neglectful parent that was turning a blind eye to her children all because of a man who had vanished from your life. You turn into the one thing that you never wanted to be. 
You had a bit of a habit of running away from your problems. Running away from all of the things that you didn’t want to believe were true. 
And that’s exactly what you did. You ran, not as far as you possibly could, but you ran to the spot where you usually went when everything got to be a little too much. 
You went up to the roof, laying down against it as you stared up at the clouds in the sky. Was it strange to wish away the future? Especially when it had just been sitting right in front of you. 
You just didn’t want to believe that that was your future. Turning into the thing you despise most is its own kind of curse. Its own living hell. How could you possibly turn out like that?
You were so caught up in your own head that you almost missed the sound of the door opening. Almost. 
“I’m fine MJ.” You said as you sat up, getting a better look at the grounds instead of just the fluffy white clouds lingering in the sky. 
You heard footsteps grow closer, and it wasn’t until the person sat beside you. And it wasn’t MJ at all. It was Peter. 
So, there was definitely no way that you were avoiding this. 
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sinisterspidey · 3 hours ago
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anchor ☆ chapter 1 - stranger
a/n: here it is! special thanks again to the lovely @rosyparkers​ for the amazing header and for being my editor once again :’) and also thank you to @duskholland​ for helping me plan out some of the ideas for this chapter :D i hope you all enjoy, and please feel free to send feedback!! oh, and, as usual, this chapter is titled ‘stranger’ after the song by vampire weekend, and the lyrics featured at the beginning of this chapter are from that song :’)
warnings: mentions of drinking and smoking and sex, slut-shaming, angst, dare i say...a smidge of fluff
word count: 6.1k
who knows the reason that kindness lost its hold? those better angels confined to minor roles i left the wilding, wilding, wilding days of old your house is warmer the wilderness is cold
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As Peter stares blankly into his small dorm room closet—that mostly contains Ned’s absurdly large male accessory collection—he realizes he doesn’t have much to choose from. He could wear jeans and a t-shirt, but what if it’s not a casual dinner? Even though it’s the same dinner he’s been going to for two years, you’ll be there.
The rational part of his mind says that it’s no different than any other dinner, but Peter’s never really paid attention to the rational part of his mind when it came to you.
Maybe I’m putting too much thought into this, Peter thinks.
“You are,” Ned butts in, while going over his chemistry homework. Peter’s face blushes in embarrassment, but after being friends with Ned for years, it’s nothing he isn’t used to.
Did I say that out loud? Peter ponders.
“Yes, dumbass,” Ned retorts, just making Peter’s face even closer to the color of the strawberries that Ned’s eating, and though their juices are getting all over his paper, he seems to have no care in the world. 
“Well, if you’re gonna make comments like that, at least say something useful,” Peter adds. “Tell me what to fucking wear.”
Ned turns around in his desk chair, before licking his fingers and delighting at the taste of the fresh strawberries that Betty gifted him earlier. Peter always refers to her as Ned’s girlfriend, but Ned always feels the need to clarify that “girlfriend” is too casual a word to use in reference to Betty, who Ned often refers to as his “fierce lioness who exhibits only radiance, intelligence, and beauty, while simultaneously being the most down-to-earth and humbling creature to ever walk the earth.”
“Why don’t you just wear jeans and a flannel like you usually wear?” Ned asks, making Peter realize that today is just one of those days where Ned’s decided that he’d prefer to get this conversation over with more than actually help Peter in his dilemma.
“Because, what if I get there, and all of them—Morgan included—are wearing these dresses and I look like the homeless kid they brought in off the street?”
“Well, first off, I’m pretty sure the once-owned-by-Tony-Stark-ten-thousand-dollar-watch you’re wearing that Pepper gave you would prevent anyone from thinking you’re homeless,” Ned starts, making Peter squint. “And, also, I think we both know that Y/N will most definitely not look… well, more put-together than you.”
Peter’s eyes widen at Ned’s accurate, but distasteful comment. “Ned!” he shouts.
“What? We know it’s true. Her outfit might be worth more than all of your clothes put together, but it’ll also be on top of her body that’s probably 30% cheap vodka.”
Peter avoids commenting.
“Oh, come on, you’re gonna tell me you haven’t been reading any of the headlines?” Ned goads.
Peter’s blush returns when he realizes that Ned is unfortunately all-too-knowledgeable about Peter’s not-so-discreet lurking.
“I don’t wanna talk about it, Ned,” Peter says, firmly, making Ned shut up. 
It’s not often that Peter uses such a serious tone with his longtime friend, but when he does, Ned knows to stop. That doesn’t mean Ned wants to end the conversation, but he also knows that Peter has boundaries, and that he needs to respect them, even if he thinks what he has to say might be better for Peter in the long run.
And it works in the reverse, too. Ned’s not known for being serious; if anything, it’s one of his greatest traits and yet one of his frequently-annoying flaws. However, on that rare occasion where Ned’s face is void of a smile or frown or some show of emotion, Peter knows to back away.
It’s something that comes with years of friendship, especially one with as many ups and downs as Peter and Ned have had. There’s a depth of understanding there that’s hard to replicate, and each knows that while they’ll see new friendships begin and end throughout their lives, there’s no one that could even come close to being the friend that Peter and Ned are to each other. 
After a few minutes of silence, Ned finally says, “Go with the white button-up, Pete. And a pair of jeans—the nice ones that May bought you, not one of the pairs you went dumpster-diving for because you spent all your money on Star Wars action figures.”
Peter agrees with his suggestion, but scoffs as he gets the clothes out of the closet. “I was a child then, Ned. And, I’m pretty sure you enjoyed those as much as I did.”
“We were seventeen, and after Betty and I got together, I gave them up. Once you’ve felt true love in all its glory, you’ll understand what I mean, and you’ll give up the figurines, too.”
Peter rolls his eyes. He wants to disagree with Ned, but unfortunately, he’s right. Sure, Peter had his infatuation with Liz in freshman year of high school before he, well, sent her father to prison, and then his romance with MJ that was really more awkward and uncomfortable than it was cute and loving. He did lose his virginity to the girl, but Peter would prefer to not think about that experience. And then there’s, well, you—and you crushed all hopes of the two of you possibly having a romantic future when you abandoned him a week after your father died.
But he’s never been in love. He’s never had something like what his parents apparently had. He’s never experienced the pure comfort that he saw between May and Ben. He’s never felt something quite as chaotic and yet perfect as Pepper and Tony. And he’s never felt the simplicity of May’s weird connection with Happy. Simply put, he doesn’t have any personal experience with any of the feelings from any of the adult relationships he’s gotten the chance to witness throughout his life.
Though the rational part of him knows that he hasn’t been a legal adult for that long, and that he has plenty of time to find someone, there’s a deep fear buried in him that he’s unlovable. 
It’s the fear that he’ll be lucky enough to meet someone who falls in love with Peter Parker, but can’t fall in love with Spiderman. What happens when he tells a girl about his other life? Does she get scared of him and run away, or does she not care and eventually fall into danger because of him?
Peter could never forgive himself for that.
And that’s all in addition to the fact that you abandoning him basically reaffirmed his insecurity that he’ll never be enough for someone.
So, yeah, Peter’s never felt that optimistic about his love life.
As Peter drives in May’s old sedan up to the Stark cabin, it begins to pour—because of course it does. And though he’s been trying to ward off old memories by blaring whatever crap music is playing on the radio, the rain reminds him of one of your first memories together on a similarly rainy day, back at the Avengers Compound.
He remembers how much he loved visiting the Compound, and how lucky he felt when Tony gave him a room to stay in whenever he visited, especially on weekends or over the summer. He felt so special, and it was such a unique feeling. Though he’d been gifted his spider powers at quite a young age, he never felt special as Peter Parker, and every time Tony showed pride in his talents as Peter and not Spiderman, he was elated.
It was a late night at the Compound in July, and it’d been a hot summer—so hot, in fact, that Tony and Pepper had decided to spend a few weeks on vacation, leaving you here, under the supervision of various Avengers.
And while he has no malice to Tony for doing so, as he couldn’t understand why someone as privileged as you could be so miserable, he can’t help but feel his heart slowly breaking at the sight of you, at fourteen years old, sitting on the edge of the covered driveway, just staring out at...nothing.
He’s concerned, and though he doesn’t know why he is, he decides to take the walk downstairs. After opening the door, he carefully makes his way to where you’re sitting, as to avoid spooking you.
And though his senses probably should’ve picked up on it, he’s still shocked to see someone his age smoking a cigarette.
But before he gets the chance to say anything, you speak for him. “What are you gonna do, Parker? Tell me that I shouldn’t be doing this? You have no authority here, Webs.”
He pouts at the nickname. “I feel like you could come up with a better nickname than that, Baby Fe,” he says, making you roll your eyes.
Soon after meeting, Peter thought he was the most clever person in the world for calling you “Baby Fe,” since “Fe” is the atomic symbol for iron. You thought it was cheesy, but you never actually objected to it. 
Nonetheless, he’s more concerned with the fact that you’re a teenager—barely—and smoking. “I mean...Would I be wrong to tell you that you shouldn’t be smoking?” he asks, before carefully sitting down on your left, leaving only a foot between you. 
And, shockingly, you don’t make some sarcastic retort. In fact, he sees your body deflate, and not just because you rub the cigarette out on the pavement. 
When you turn to look at him, he can see the few tears that you’ve shed since being here, and he’s a bit taken aback. He’s never seen you like this before. Or, at least, you’ve never allowed him to see you like this.
And he has no idea how to respond.
“My dad knows I smoke, Parker,” you say, before turning your head back to face the landscape.
Peter has to admit he’s shocked by this. Tony always seems like the perfect dad. The perfect father figure. He’s never seen his flaws. Obviously, he knows he must have them, and he knows about the not-so-great years of his past, but it’s hard for him to process that today’s Tony Stark lets his barely-teenager-daughter smoke. 
Peter shakes his head at the memory. No, Mr. Stark’s gone...Thinking of his flaws is disrespectful.
“Fuck this,” he says, before pulling into the cabin’s driveway.
As he opens the car door and scolds himself for forgetting his umbrella, he makes a dash for the porch. He’s about to raise his hand to knock, until he remembers that he’s never been here before.
All of the previous dinners had been at Stark Tower, but since you’re back for the first time in a while, Pepper decided to have it at the cabin, away from prying eyes—and, well, everything.
He remembers how Tony vaguely spoke of building a home for Pepper—and you, of course—outside of the city, and somewhat distanced from the Avengers Compound.
Peter places his damp hands along the railing, and looks out at the scene before him. It’s a bit bland for Tony, but that makes sense to Peter. If Tony wanted something so different from his city life and his life as Iron Man, then it makes sense that there’s no extravagance. It simply looks like a home, a home built for a family—not just a home built for a billionaire.
Though he soon realizes that there’s no other homes in sight, and that Tony probably bought the whole fucking lake, and he chuckles to himself. 
Well, it’s still a Tony Stark cabin, he thinks.
“Hey, Peter!” he hears a faint voice speak, making him spin.
Fuck, I’ve gotta stop saying what I’m actually thinking, he reminds himself.
“Mommy said I’m not supposed to say that word,” Morgan remarks, before hopping up onto the bench and dangling her small feet off the end.
“Mommy’s right, Baby Stark,” he says, before sitting down on the bench next to her. She pouts at the nickname, but doesn’t argue with him, making him chuckle. “What are you doing out here?”
“I saw you through the window, and Mommy’s busy,” she explains.
“And… she’s not here yet?” Peter asks, treading around your name.
Peter groans internally, realizing that even though Morgan Stark is smarter than any six-year-old he’s ever met, she’s still, well, six years old. “Your sister,” he lets out, still refusing to use your name.
“No,” Morgan pouts, and the sadness in her eyes definitely doesn’t diminish his negative feelings for you. “She’s never been like this before,” Morgan adds, confusing Peter, because Morgan was only born during the years of the Blip, when you and him were both… gone. When would Morgan and you have spent any time together?
“What do you mean?” he asks, scooting closer to Morgan, and letting her squish into his side.
“When she was at the school in Switz… Swiss… Land… Hmm, I forget the name of the place, but when she was there, she always called me on Mommy’s phone in the morning. And over the summer, we went to stay at this fancy home in some place called Italy, and she always spent time with me there,” Morgan explains, with a distant look on her face. Though, her face soon goes confused, and she pokes his chest and asks, “how do you know Y/N?”
“You’re very perceptive, Morgan,” he chuckles out. “Um… We used to be… friends.”
“You did? What kind of friends? Did you play on the swings together?”
“Um… Yeah. I guess you could say that.”
She gasps, and then puts her hands over her mouth. “Oh, were you the kind of friends that used to… kiss each other on the lips?”
Peter, flustered by Morgan’s very unexpected question, quickly denies it. “No, no, no! We were… normal friends.”
The two sit in silence for a bit longer, until Peter checks his watch. “Come on, kiddo. We should go inside.”
She nods, before standing up on the bench, and reaching her arms up, making Peter chuckle. Instead of pulling her up by the waist, though, he flings her over his shoulder, and she squeals in response. 
Peter opens the door, kicks off his shoes in the entrance, and then makes his way to the bottom of the stairwell. “Pepper, I found a little monster wandering around outside!” he belts out, playfully.
Morgan’s still chuckling, though now the little rascal has climbed her way onto Peter’s shoulders, playing with his hair.
Eventually, Pepper walks downstairs, and smiles at the sight before her. “Hello, Peter,” she greets, and manages to give him a small hug, though it’s a tad awkward given the kicking child on his shoulders.
They let go, and Peter puts Morgan down, ignoring her huffs. Thankfully, as the child she is, her attention span is short, and she makes her way to the couch, beginning to play with one of her many dolls.
“Do you need any help with dinner, Pep?” he asks, trying to be a tad helpful.
“Ooh, do you mind setting the table?” she asks, and Peter agrees.
After he sets the third spot, though, he pauses, and looks across at Pepper in the kitchen, whom he finds already looking back at him. And their minds are both on the same thing; they’re just waiting to see who will bring it up first. 
“Should I, uh...”
Peter gestures to the last placemat, hesitating to put the plate in its seat. 
It takes more energy than she’d like, but Pepper nods, smiling through the uneasiness. “She’ll be here… eventually.”
Though Pepper’s been waiting for you to start dinner, Peter gets the sense that she’s lost hope in you showing up, and that you being ridiculously late is not so out of the ordinary. Eventually, he convinces Pepper to start dinner, and things go somewhat smoothly from there.
The conversation is calm, and Pepper and Peter update each other on their lives, with Morgan interrupting with her own stories. Laughs are shared, and though there’s an empty place setting that occupies their thoughts, the normalcy of the conversation helps to keep it at the back of their minds. 
Peter willingly shares how college has been so far, making sure to highlight the pleasant instances more than any lingering negative sentiments he’s holding onto. He fills Pepper in on Ned and Betty’s adorable yet extremely annoying romance, and he updates her on how May’s doing, to which Pepper responds by informing him that she’s going to ask May for some help with charity organizations. It took a while for Pepper to start delegating various parts of Stark Industries and his estate after Tony’s death, but now that she’s ready for it, she hopes to involve May—who dedicates her livelihood to charities in the Queens area—in deciding what charities need the most help and how Stark Industries can make the biggest difference. 
It’s a bit weird for Peter to see just how interconnected his life has become with Tony after his death, but he doesn’t mind, and there’s something immensely heartwarming in the idea that May—the biggest maternal influence in his life—is developing a friendship with Pepper.
They eventually move on to discussing May and Happy’s romance, in which Peter plays the part of concerned, disgusted, and overprotective nephew, though both Pepper and Peter know that he’s truly happy that his aunt’s found happiness after Uncle Ben, and with someone Peter can trust. If there’s one man who Peter was closest to besides Tony after Ben’s death, it was most definitely Happy, and it delights Peter to see him bring his aunt happiness. 
As most of these dinners go, the conversation is generally light, but intense emotion is there. ANd though Peter tries to avoid deep emotional sentiment in every part of his life these days, for some reason, it’s easy for him to abandon that firmness during his times with Pepper and Morgan. In other parts of his life, he has to escape emotional attachment, but here, there’s nowhere to escape to.
Eventually, though, Morgan gets antsy, and it’s nearly her bedtime. They’ve tried to eat dinner as long as they can, and it’s clear that you’re not coming anytime soon, and if you are coming anytime soon, they simply don’t believe it.
Peter lets Pepper know that he’ll take care of the dishes, and Pepper gives him a grateful hug in response.
After putting Morgan to bed, and after Peter does the dishes, they meet again in the living room, and Peter can tell that Morgan’s not the only tired person in the house.
“I’ll wait for her,” he says. And even though he tries to hide his hesitancy, he knows he’s not the most convincing. 
Pepper’s clearly hesitant, too. “Are you sure? I know that you two haven’t spoken in quite a long time, and I can’t imagine that’s been easy for you. I remember how close you were before—well, you know—and how crushed she was to leave you. But, in her mind, it was the right decision, and I hope you can understand that, at least a little bit.”
Peter’s lips draw into a line, and he tucks his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I won’t lie to you, Pep—you deserve better than that. I don’t have many… fond thoughts of her these days. But, if it hurt her so much to go, then why did she? Was it something I did? Something I said? I just—”
Shaking her head, Pepper interrupts. “She had her reasons, Peter. And while I know the gist of them, they’re also not mine to tell. But I truly, truly hope that you can at least try to be a bit patient with her,” she pleads, and Peter gives her a slight nod. “Alright, well, I’m heading upstairs. If she doesn’t show up, there are two guest rooms that you’re free to crash in, or you can take the sofa. Please don’t drive back so late.”
“You’ve got it. Good night, Pep.”
“Good night, Pete,” she says, before continuing up the stairs.
Peter doesn’t know how long he waits in the living room for you. All he knows is that it’s now well-past one o’clock in the morning, and that whatever reruns he’s watching on the television are all morphing into the same damn thing. 
He’s about to go upstairs and turn in for the night, before he hears yelling outside, muffled by the rain. 
He really hopes he only hears it because of his senses, and that it won’t wake up Pepper and Morgan.
Peter opens the window curtain in the dining room, and is faced with the sight of an expensive car that he doesn’t know the name of skidding off, and you, in a tight black dress, soaked with rainwater, clammering up the front steps… or at least trying to.
He hates that he worries for you, when all you’ve done tonight is disappoint your family (and him, though he would never admit that), but he’s trying to be considerate.
Or, as May always tells him, “be generous.”
He’s never really sure what she means by that, but part of him thinks it’s applicable to this situation.
He opens the door at the same time that you make it to the porch, and it seems that you haven’t even noticed his presence as you practically fall onto one of the benches.
Carefully, he walks towards you, and as he does, he can now make out what the rain had previously masked—at least somewhat.
Your eyes are almost shut, and your eye makeup—it might be mascara, but Peter’s never been one to know much about the things women put on their faces—leaves dark trails down your cheeks. Your hair is a mess—there’s no nicer way to put it. And he’s fairly convinced that there’s a rip towards the center of the very short skirt of your dress that wasn’t there when you purchased the item.
And, to make matters worse, if he looks closely, he’s pretty sure that the rip in the dress gives him an indirect view of the hot pink thong you’re wearing under it.
If Ned were here, he’d probably say something like, “hey, at least she’s wearing underwear,” Peter thinks.
“I’m not that stupid,” he hears you say, and Peter scolds himself for again saying what he means to be thinking.
Peter honestly doesn’t know what else to say, though, so he waits for you to continue talking, which you do.
“Why are you here?” you rasp out. Clearly, your voice is drained by whatever you’ve done tonight, whether it be drinking loads of alcohol, engaging in a lot of screaming, using whatever smoking device Peter’s not familiar with but is probably all over his college campus, and, well, sucking dick.
“Pepper invited me over for dinner tonight with her, Morgan, and, well, you,” Peter says, before taking a seat next to you on the bench, though keeping his distance.
The two of you sit out there for a few minutes, simply staring at the rainy landscape before you. Frankly, Peter’s a bit stunned. The event of meeting you again had crossed his mind countless times over the last few years, and though it feels like he’s gone through every possibility in his mind, this feels like the one he never thought about.
He never thought he’d meet you at a place in your life where you’ve hit rock bottom. It’s harsh, but that doesn’t make it any less true. And, to be completely honest, Peter’s hit rock bottom, also… he’s just a tad better at hiding it.
The entire truth is that the outside world sees your life as a mess and sees you as a girl who had everything going for her, who then went rogue after her father died. You’ve made mistake after mistake after mistake, to the point where people no longer believe that they’re mistakes. They’re no longer oddities—they’re you. 
Peter, on the other hand, doesn’t have as many people looking at him. He’s just an average college student, and everything that makes him a special guy is exactly what he hides from the world.
However, none of that means he hasn’t had his own troubles. While you’re dealing with your problems in an unhealthy way, you’re at least acknowledging their existence. You’re in pain, and you’re not denying that. Sure, your habits of dealing with grief are worrisome, but you at least have them. Peter doesn’t, because it’s difficult to try and manage your troubles when you refuse to acknowledge that they exist in the first place—and, even if Peter’s acknowledging his issues to some extent, he’s minimizing them. After he stopped trying to make contact with you, he just acted like his problems didn’t exist.
And maybe it’s fucked up, but to Peter, there’s something brave in what you’re doing. You aren’t shying away from anything—well, except admitting that you’re only developing bad habits to cover your real issues. At least from a distance, it seems to Peter that you’ve accepted that your life has been fucked up one too many times. While Peter, in his mind, acts like a coward, refusing to accept that his wounds exist just so that he doesn’t have to embark on the process of healing them.
Peter can be quite a philosophical guy when he wants to—especially in the most awkward scenarios. However, your teeth-chattering has just become fundamentally nauseating to Peter and his senses. “Let’s go inside.”
You want to argue with him, but Peter’s grateful that you don’t, and he opens the door to the cabin. You struggle to slip off your heels, and Peter has to bite back a chuckle at the scene. 
“Don’t laugh,” you growl, before stumbling on your bare feet over to the couch, and plopping down headfirst.
“Don’t you think you should sleep in your bedroom?” 
Since “nnnnnngh,” is the only response you give, Peter sits on the chair next to you, and begins to tap his hands on his thighs in boredom.
Your face shifts so that you can see Peter out of the corner of your eye, before you twist to lay on your side, groaning in the process.
“What are you doing?” you ask.
“Yeah, I know that, dipshit. Why?”
“Pepper entrusted me to watch over you and make sure you got home safe, so that’s what I’m doing.”
“Well, I’m here, and I’m home safe. You can leave now.”
Peter squints, and while he’d love to leave and miss interacting with your extremely shitty and spoiled attitude, he reminds himself that he’s doing it for Pepper, and not for you. And at least there’s a solid chance that you won’t remember any of this tomorrow—well, actually, later today. 
You just groan again in response, before getting up way too quickly that Peter has to sprint over to you to prevent you from falling. If it weren’t for his spidey senses, he would’ve missed you entirely and you’d have definitely cracked your head open against the coffee table.
However, he’s surprised when you don’t make an annoying retort, until he realizes that you’ve completely knocked out in his arms.
Of fucking course.
Securing you tightly, he makes his way up the stairs, walking quietly as to not wake up Pepper or Morgan. 
Luckily, the door to your room is marked with a small paper sign—clearly decorated by Morgan—that reads “Best Big Sis Ever.” Peter wants to frown at the sight, since he knows that there’s probably no way that you’ve actually proven to be the “Best Big Sis Ever” to Morgan, but his smile betrays him. 
He uses his foot to quietly knock the door open, which is fortunately unlocked, and then plops you on the queen-sized bed, and ponders what to do next.
Should he just leave and head for the guest room?
Should he wipe your makeup off and dress you into some comfier clothes?
Should he set a garbage can next to you for when you inevitably start retching in the morning?
To be completely honest, he doesn’t want to do any of the above, and his tiredness is starting to get to him, but he tries to “be generous”, as May says.
May’s words and Peter’s refusal to break promises eat away at him, and he decides to at least lay out some comfier clothes for you.
Letting out a huff, he turns around, faced with your dresser, and opens up the top drawers, which, much to his annoyance, are full of bras and thongs. The act, though, of opening your dresser, is eerie. Before the Blip, the two of you had become accustomed to sleepovers and doing everything together, and now it feels so ghost-like. Though he’s done this with you before—in some fashion or another—it almost feels disgraceful to those old memories to associate them with the messiness that is this current moment.
Nonetheless, he’s grateful at the sight of pajamas. Phew, he thinks, but when he hears you mumble something in your sleep, he realizes he’s done that stupid thing again.
Not trying to be too invasive, he just grabs the first shirt on top—one of your dad’s old band shirts—and lays it at the foot of the bed next to your bare feet. 
And while you might be one of those girls who sleeps in their underwear, he feels like getting a pair of underwear for you would definitely be crossing a line. 
So, instead, he grabs what he assumes to be old pajama shorts, and quietly shuts the drawer.
Realizing he’ll have to wake the beast to at least do this semi-respectfully, he walks over to you, poking you gently on the forehead. 
Unfortunately, all you do is let out a bit of gibberish, so he taps you a few times on the shoulder, hoping that’ll do it. 
Thankfully, your eyes blink open, and they go wide when they recognize someone else’s presence. “What the—”
Peter quickly stops your outburst by shoving his hand against your mouth, and when you realize that he’s not a murderer and then remember the events that happened not so long ago, you calm down. Peter removes his hand from your mouth, and then wipes off the drool on his jeans.
“Uh...I got you a pair of shorts and, uh, a shirt.”
You don’t seem grateful, though, because you frown at him in disgust. “You went through my underwear drawer?!” you whisper-yell.
“I wasn’t being creepy!” he defends, matching your tone of voice.
“That’s such a perv-y thing to do, you… perv!” you remark, wincing at your lack of a witty nickname in your post-drunk state. 
“Clever,” Peter retorts, rolling his eyes.
You huff in annoyance. “Whatever. Just… turn around, please.”
Peter gives you a look as if to say “obviously”, and turns around, leaving you to change.
However, you clearly overestimated your sobriety, as getting out of your dress proves to be a nightmare, which Peter notices by your endless groans, huffs, and stammers. At this point, he decides that he’s just waiting for you to ask for his help.
He taps his foot on the floor, and once you notice it, you concede. “Whatever. Just help me, dipshit.”
He stops tapping his foot, but refuses to turn around.
“Oh my God, seriously? Fine, whatever. Please help me with my clothes, dipshit.”
Deciding that that’s probably the best he’ll get from you, he turns around, and has to stop himself from admiring how cute you look, with your head lost in your dress and your body contorted in a way that he can’t possibly understand.
“Alright, uh… Hmm. Ahh, here.” He walks closer to you, and notices that the rip previously in the center of your dress is now on the side.
“Do you mind if I just… rip it?”
“Hey, I like this dress!” you object.
“Oh, come on, this can’t be the only little black dress you have. And besides, it’s already ripped… and covered in a mixture of liquids that I really don’t want to know the makeup of.”
You give in, and let out a “fine,” and Peter turns to your side, before simply ripping the dress in half. 
When it falls to the ground, Peter’s eyes go wide, and the two of you make immediate eye contact, though that doesn’t mean Peter can’t see all of your practically-naked form.
It takes a few seconds for the two of you to react to the situation, and Peter turns around.
You struggle to unclip your bra in your state, and eventually decide to just take it off the way you would a shirt, before flinging it in at least the direction of your hamper. 
You then take off your thong, flinging it in the direction of the trash can, because after last night’s events, you’re pretty sure a quick wash won’t get the dirt, grime, and other… substances out of it.
As Peter continues to stand in front of your dresser, staring out the window, you slip on your dad’s old band shirt, and the pair of pajama shorts, though, given your state, it takes a bit longer than it usually would.
“Done,” you announce to Peter, and he turns around, gulping at the sight before him.
“What?” you ask, with a nervousness he didn’t expect to see in you.
“It’s just… well. You… look like him,” Peter vocalizes, before he can even think of what he’s said. And, while that’s not shocking, the sight of an older you, in your father’s old shirt, almost gives him whiplash. Not only do you remind him of your father and all that he was, but you remind him of the sight of that sad fourteen-year-old girl who used to be his best friend smoking in the Compound driveway. 
You’re older and more woman than girl now, of course, but there’s an innocence that he sees in you now that he’d forgotten, or maybe just pushed to the side. Or maybe he didn’t notice it because he used to have that same innocence in him. It’s not necessarily an innocence in attitude or pattern, but it’s a reminder that, no matter how you’re seen by the rest of the world, you’re still human. And while most people got to come back and got to see their loved ones come back, you didn’t. The man who the world views as a hero was still your father, and though everyone else gets to love and reminisce in the effects of his actions, you don’t. The world lost a hero but gained everyone, while you just… lost your dad.
It’s a dark thought, but it makes him sympathize with you, and with everything you’ve done. And something about that’s even more infuriating. He should hate you—for fuck’s sake, he’s been trying to convince himself and everyone around him that he hates you for the past year and a half. 
It’s not until you walk to the bathroom that he gets out of the daze.
He stands there for a few more minutes, while you do...whatever you need to do in the bathroom. Eventually, he hears the toilet flush and the sink run, and you walk out, now with a makeup-free face and hair a tad less unkempt.
You stare at him, waiting for him to leave, but it takes a bit for him to understand. “Oh, uh, Pepper said I could take one of the guest rooms… Uh, which one should I take?”
“Doesn’t matter, but there’s one to the left of the stairwell.”
As he walks to the door, you get into bed, and as he’s about to leave, he stops.
“What, Peter?” you ask, no malice in your voice, just a very clear need of sleep.
“Uh, nothing. Good night… Oh, wait!”
You give him a confused look, but smile just a bit when he reaches for your trash can, picking it up by the end that your pink thong isn’t hanging off of.
He places it by your bedside, and you can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed at the sight of the pair of underwear, so you quickly knock it into the bin.
“Thanks, Pete.”
“Uh, no problem.”
You settle back into your covers. “Good night, Y/N.”
“Good night, Peter.”
so...what’d y’all think? did you like it? do you have questions? do you have predictions? please let me know via ask or comment/reblog! i’d love to know. do you have suggestions? feel free to send them in! thank you for reading, and i hope you enjoyed this as much as i did writing it <3
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fanaticfangirl001 · a day ago
The Black Sheep Ch 1: Cut The Wire
Author's note: Takes place post Civil War, but the Avengers are still together. Bucky has been in Wakanda and slowly getting back to his flirty self. *This a rewrite to an abandoned work, it turned out better this time I'll go back and delete the original*
Bucky Barnes x OC (Stark Daughter)
Warning: Swearing, Daddy issues.
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A strong gust of wind nearly slams the French doors in Quinn Stark’s suite. She looks out the doors washing her brush to change paint. The Manhattan skyline is one of her favorite scenes to paint, forever changing and never the same as the day before. She checks her phone for a text from Peter. Since he became Spiderman and a protégé for her father, the two of them became close since he’s closest one to her age. Legally she can drink but at parties she’s normally stuck at the kiddies’ table with Peter.
That isn’t so bad since he’s nice but Quinn wishes her father took her more seriously, especially with her interests. Art is her calling rather than science.Dapping the white paint making stars against the black background she doesn’t look up when someone lands on her terrace with a crashing sound.
“Peter don’t fight the patio furniture.” Quinn looks over to see the spandexed teenager on his back with a toppled over red veranda lounge chair on top of him.
He takes off the mask, “A little help,please.”
“Sure.” Quinn rights the chair while noticing Peter holding his side. “Something tells me you didn’t get that from being the Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman.”
“Please don’t tell your dad.” Peter stands up wincing.
“Come inside. I’ll patch you up.” She pats the bed before leaving the room to grab a med kit from the kitchen.
Peter sits on the bed looking around the room. All the walls were covered in some sort of art, from landscapes to portraits to sketches.
“So you should probably strip now.” Quinn tosses the kit on the bed.
“Uh what?” Peter squeaks.
“So I can get to the wound.” She turns her back on Peter so he can do so comfortably.
Peter presses the button on the suit so he can take it off, he also takes off the undershirt.
“Can I turn around now, I promise you I’ve seen boys’ nipples. It’s not a scandalous thing.” Quinn asks.
“Yeah just stop saying nipples.” Peter answers, removing his hand from his side.
Quinn turns around and starts opening the bottle of antiseptic. “Peter, I think you should listen to my dad about just toning it down a little.”
“He already gave me the lecture, I don’t need you too.” Peter huffs.
“You could get hurt, more than this.” Quinn dabs the concoction onto a cotton ball. “Besides there are things you don’t know that he does. He’s been saving people for longer than you have.”
“I don’t think you should be talking about this.” Peter crosses his arms. “You’ve never done anything with your life.”
“Uh, what?” Quinn stops.
“Saving people, laying yourself down on the wire for others to cross over.” Peter uncrosses his arms putting them beside himself.
“I think I’d cut the fucking wire, what are you on about.” Quinn starts dapping the cotton ball on his skin.
“Your art, who is it saving? When do you get into a suit and save the city?” Peter hisses as the antiseptic starts working.
“I don’t.” Quinn daps it again.
“Exactly.” Peter winces. “You have the technology to and your dad could train you.”
“I don’t want to.” She turns back to the kit to grab the bandages to wrap around him.
“You want to know what your problem is?”
“No but I have a feeling like you’re going to tell me anyway.”
You’re a coward.” Peter snaps.
“A coward that saw their father fly into a portal to sacrifice himself,” Quinn snaps.
“Just because your dad is dead doesn’t mean, I don’t deserve mine.” Quin snaps again, rubbing her eyes.
“He’s never been proud of you.”
Get out.” Quinn throws the first aid kit at him. “Be a superhero! Get yourself killed! See if I give a fuck.” She shoves him onto the terrace and locks the door.
She draws the curtains and Peter slings off.
“Suck it up Quinn Maria Stark, you’re a Stark, you don’t cry. Starks don’t cry, they push things down and develop alcohol addictions. Let's go to one of dad’s parties. Maybe I’ll find a new friend.” Quinn says to herself as she throws off her covers.
She wipes her eyes at the few tears threatening to fall and throws on a crimson halter top body con dress. Quinn sticks her dark hair into a single long braid and carries her shoes out of the room. As she walks down the stairs to the party she quickly fastens the heels to her feet.
Tony pulls himself away from a conversation to smile at his daughter.
“I didn’t think you were coming. Too busy.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Have fun...not too much.”
“I won’t do anything that you wouldn’t.”
“That’s not a good thing.”
“You raised me, Pops.” Quinn walks away from her dad and straight to the bar where Steve and Bucky are sitting.
“Steve.” Quinn says sitting down between the gentlemen.
“Have a seat, Stark.” Steve says after the fact.
Bucky shares a brief look with Steve then stares back at Quinn. The red dress leaving little to the imagination.
“Hi.” Bucky shyly.
“I don’t have any raw shit about you two. I understood what you two were doing. Friends are important.” Quinn opens a beer from behind the bar. “Hey Bucky.”
“You’re drinking tonight.” Steve eyes her confused.
“I’m old enough.” Quinn shrugs.
“You normally don’t.”
“Well I do tonight.” Quinn takes a sip.
“Did Something happen?”
“Yeah but it’ll ruin the night.”
“Consider me a party pooper then.”
“Peter and I got into a fight and things were said.”
“That’s rough, maybe let him cool off and talk to him tomorrow. He’ll be here.”
“It’s not something we can just smooth over with some words.”
“Must be lousy fighting with your boyfriend.” Bucky muses.
“I don’t have one of those.” Quinn takes a sip looking up at Bucky through her eyelashes.
“Oh.” Bucky looks off to the side nursing his drink, the slightest flush on his cheeks.
“Anyway, have a nice night, fellas.” Quinn leaves with her beer in hand.
As soon as Quinn is out of earshot, Bucky looks over at Steve.
“So who is she?” He asks with a small smile.
“That’s Quinn Stark.”
“Tony’s sister?” Bucky quesses and watches her leave the party.
“Daughter.”Steve corrects.
“She’s…” Bucky trails off.
“Somethin’.”Steve finishes.
“I’m not going to tell you what to do but you know what Tony is like, so proceed with caution.” Steve warns.
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hayhays · a day ago
So I’m having a bit of a creative/drawing block, so if anyone could tell me some Marvel characters or scenes to draw that would be amazing
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sinisterspidey · a day ago
anchor is so good! i would totally reblog if i had an account. i love your writing <3
oh my goodness thank you very much for sending this in :’) made my morning!
check out anchor, a college!peter x stark!reader series
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losttinwritings · a day ago
Writing To The Void 🌾 Chapter 14
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peter parker x oc story
SUMMARY: A series of letters written to Peter Parker, from his girlfriend while he was stuck in the soul stone.
A-N: ok ngl i liked how the start was coming along. But then i felt like i kinda rushed the last half of it lol. Hopefully it makes sense though
[series masterlist]
[twelve, thirteen]
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Dear Peter
Another two months have gone by already, and no matter how many days I have to go without being by your side. Without seeing your face. The pain is still there, not as unbearable and horrible as it once was. But it's still there, and hell I'm surprised It hasn't caused me to go insane or to break down in public yet. Sometimes I still wonder what it would be like if you were still here. If that day, you hadn't like many others, disappeared.
Would we be fine? What would we be doing together right now? I'd like to think we would be hanging out in your bedroom, either watching Star Wars or just hanging out while your Aunt May comes in every hour or so to bring us snacks or to just check on us. But we aren't, and how i miss those days. Where it's simply just you and me, with all our worries simply thrown out a window as we just spend time together.
Sierra dropped her pen onto her bedsheets, a single strand of brown hair falling into her face as she stared at the paper down in front of her. She didn't know what was with her today, she could not seem to find the words to write into the next letter to Peter. It was like everything that she wanted to say at that moment had simply left her mind. And it bothered her a lot. She's never had this trouble before when she wrote the previous letters, every thing that seemed to flow out of her and onto the page in bursts of emotion as soon as she would touch her pen to the paper. It seemed to not be there today.
She glanced briefly at the shoebox, filled to the brim with the previous loose letters and then at the one in front of her. As she gently chewed on her lip, simply confused. What did she want to write? Why wasn't anything coming to her like it it usually would? the thoughts quickly crossed her mind but she shook them away. Perhaps I'm just hungry or thirsty, that should help...right?
Sierra gently lifted herself from her bed and onto the carpeted ground of her bedroom. She glanced into the mirror which sat opposite her bed and beside her desk briefly. Her eyes took in the bags underneath her eyelids from lack of sleep before they moved across to the makeup situated atop her vanity when something caught her eye. The mismatched pieces of lipstick and other beauty products sat there waiting to be used, but that wasn't what she was looking at.
No, instead it was much rather the small jagged piece of glass which sat on the vanity's surface. She hesitated for a moment, before walking over and reaching over and hovering her hand above the small shard. It was like she felt some kind of pull to it in that moment. As if she felt the need to drag it along her arm and draw as much blood as she could. In order toctake away the pain of losing her boyfriend. She wasn't sure why though considering she'd never really been that depressed to even think about harming herself at all. But here she was. The thoughts were as clear as day, and she didn't even know if it was just the grief she's been feeling which was getting to her head or not.
"Sierra! dinner!" The sound of her mother could be heard shouting from downstairs. Which snapped the brunette out of the sort of trance she'd been placed in then. All the thoughts and the slight tugging she felt towards the shard of glass disappeared in an instant. As she managed to turn herself around and walk out her bedroom door without a glance back.
She carefully made her way down the stairs and onto the first floor of their home, hearing the the talkative voices of her family getting settled down to eat in the dining room. When she made it in, she found herself sitting down on one of wooden dining chairs opposite her older brother. The smell of steak, vegetables and gravy filled her nostrils as she sat there. She found herself glancing towards her parents and brother who were all seated around her, as she picked her cutlery up slowly.
"How was school?" Her father asked, after a few moments of awkward silence between the four. As he tried to make atleast some conversation with his family. Sierra shrugged lazily, it was the same as always in her opinion. Her routine hadn't changed since that day, she still only hung around Eleanor. With also Brayden added into their friendship group now. She didn't really feel the need to tell her dad that though. So she didn't.
The girl poked around her food with her fork, taking small bites every so often. Her intention clear on trying to avoid as much eye contact and talking to her family as possible through dinner. She probably would have eaten in her room if she could, not that she would've eaten much in the first place though.
Sure she did miss those nights where they used to hang out and talk amongst themselves as a family. But it felt different now, with everything that had happened with all these people who had suddenly disappeared off the face of the earth. It of still felt more awkward now at dinnertime and she still didn't think it would change atleast, even after it happened like a year. Well maybe not to her though. Despite, herself kind of coming back to her normal self, if you counted smiling again that.
Eventually, dinner came to an end and Sierra found herself pushing her chair back from the table and standing up. She said a mumbled good night to her family members, took her plate back into the kitchen for either her mother or father to wash up. Before hurriedly rushing back up the stairs, to go back to her room. Where she hopefully could finish the next letter, she wanted to keep writing then. Now that she'd gotten atleast some food into her stomach.
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[next chapter]
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sunshineandaisies · a day ago
Cabin Fever Masterlist
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Summary: What was meant to be a weekend at the cabin with Peter, Pepper, and Morgan very quickly turned into a weekend alone with your best friend and your recently acknowledged feelings for him thanks to a certain assumption made by your step-mother.
Pairing: College!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader
Status: On-Going
Words: ~3.6k+
Main Masterlist
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Part One
Part Two
More Coming Soon
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starknik22 · 2 days ago
Where We Rot: Chapter 4—Let Me Let You Go
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Summary: Bucky is the worst BEST at interrogating, Tony actually feels emotions and shit, Steve, once again, follows his moral compass, and Peter is a little fluff ball that likes planning date nights.
Word Count: 5.1k
Warnings: Swearing, hints to depression, hints to an ED
a/n: a lot of what’s in this chapter actually wasn’t suppose to exist lol. i kinda planned fewer chapters, but since this chapter had so many added scenes i decided to just essentially create a whole extra chapter :/ hope you enjoy and please let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for this or any of my future works! <3
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist 
“Buck, you don’t have to go with us, y’know. I know how hard this has been on you.” Natasha placed a comforting hand on the super soldier’s shoulder. 
“No, I want to see her.” Bucky confirmed, nodding. “It’ll help with my closure.” 
Natasha nodded, and her and Bucky made their way down to the interrogation room. Peter, Steve, and Tony were all already down there, dreading the process of questioning that would soon come. 
“Queens, you should go back home.” Steve said, sitting in the chair next to Peter on the other side of the one-way mirror, as they watched you with your head down on the metal table in the adjacent room.
“No, I want to be here, Mr. Rogers. I deserve answers.” Peter’s eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. He sniffled every now and again and winced whenever he saw your anger get the best of you and you’d throw the oatmeal or soup that gave you at the glass, hoping to shatter it. 
You always got the angriest when Tony would enter the room for the interrogation. You would spit at him and thrash around. On one occasion, you even bit him when he reached across the table for a pen. Steve was the gentlest with you, but still, he received no answers. 
Natasha was the harshest. She’d yell and threaten, but you remained stoic. Peter never went in. He just watched on the other side and when it got too harsh, he’d go up to his room in the compound and cry. 
Bucky wanted a turn to interrogate; he felt like with your shared experience of HYDRA, he could get a better understanding and get more answers. He was sorely wrong.
“(Y/N)?” Bucky sat across from you, manilla folder on the table in front of him. “I know it’s hard to get away from HYDRA. Maybe you feel like they’ll always find you or that you’ll always have this part of you that—”
“I’m not brainwashed.” You stated, interrupting him. “I have my reasons.” 
“Okay well… then what are they?” He tried, “I remember your mother, but I don’t think I recall ever seeing you around.” 
“I stayed away from the brainwashed assassins. I didn’t like how helpless they looked.” Bucky nodded and wrote something down in the folder. 
“Okay um, what is your exact parentage? Ophelia is your mother and your father…”
“Out of the picture.” 
Bucky wrote another note down, just happy to at least be getting a few answers, no matter how little they helped.
“Do you know where the closest base is?” 
“Can you tell us?”
“You’re shit at interrogating, you know that?” You tilted your head. Bucky frowned but continued to press on. 
“(Y/N), I think—”
“I don’t care what you think.” You snapped, “I’m tired. I’d like to go back to my cell now.”
Bucky sighed but nodded and left the room, taking the folder with him.
“You okay?” Steve asked, patting his friend’s back. 
“Yeah, she’s a tough one though.”
“Yeah, she’s giving me a real hard time too,” Natasha frowned, “I’ll go in next.”
“She said she’s tired and wants to go back to her cell.” Bucky informed the group. 
Tony chuckled, “Well she’s not exactly in the position to back demands.” 
“Maybe I could try?” Peter spoke up, prompting the attention of all the Avengers. “I-I want to talk to her.” 
All of the Avengers looked at each other, each having silent conversations with their eyes. “Uh, well, if you think you’re up for it, kid.” Tony patted his back, giving him a small smile. “But the second it gets too much, you’re out of there.” Tony snapped his fingers and pointed behind him “Kapeesh?”
“Yes, sir.” Peter nodded, taking the folder from Bucky.
Peter entered the room when you had your head down. You didn’t lift your head assuming it was Natasha here to rough you up again. Peter cleared his throat, causing you to snap your head up.
“What are you doing here?” You frowned, “You need to leave.” 
“No (Y/N), I want answers.” Peter sat across from you. “I deserve them the most.” 
“I wish I could go back to that night.” You sighed, “I wish I treasured my time with you more, especially since I knew it was limited.”
“But above all, I wish things could be normal, just for a little while. I think I could really love you, y’know?” You frowned, “I’m sorry, I really am. I never wanted to hurt you, but there is so much you still don’t know—”
“Then tell me!” Peter slammed his hand on the table, denting it, “Stop lying and just tell me.” 
You remained quiet, staring at the broken boy in front of you, the one that you rolled over with your darkness and turned grey.
“I’m sorry,” Peter mumbled, running a hand through his hair. “I-I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
“It’s alright.” You smiled sadly, “We both know I’ve done worse.”
Your “cell” was actually a pretty nice room. It had a queen-sized bed pushed up against the far side of the wall, an overhead light with a fan, and a nightstand with a small table side lamp. You didn’t know this, but Stark wanted to put you in one of his nicer guest rooms, just placing an enhancement-resistant lock on the door so you couldn’t escape. If you closed your eyes and tried really, really hard, you could almost believe you weren’t being kept prisoner.
Food was usually brought to the interrogation room for you. Every morning around 8 o’clock, Steve would wake you up and take you down to the bleak, grey-walled room where you’d spend most of your day being questioned. Steve always brought you oatmeal or cereal in the morning. You ate it about 4 out of 10 times, but most days the questioning would get on your nerves, and in a fit of anger you’d throw the bowl at the glass window or at the security locked door. 
Tony brought cheeseburgers for you almost every afternoon. He never stayed long, considering you’d cuss him out to leave, but he always left the burger on the table for you. The petty part you always throw it back at the door after him, uneaten.
If you weren’t being questioned, you were laying in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering if your mother was even looking for you. Peter hasn’t been at the compound for nearly two weeks and you couldn’t escape the feeling of dread that lodged itself in your heart. Your mother always followed through, it’s the one thing you used to admire about her the most, and now it'd be your one love’s undoing. 
You could feel yourself getting weaker, without the food you needed or the training you always endured, you could feel yourself wanting to sleep more and talk less.
“(Y/N)?” Peter knocked on the other side of the door. “Can I come in?” It’d been so long since you heard his voice or seen his puppy dog eyes. He hadn’t visited you since the first interrogation he conducted. You couldn’t blame him though. You practically took his innocence whilst plotting to murder him, so it made sense that he’d want to keep his distance from you.
You didn’t respond, you just rolled over on your side to face the wall rather than the boy who you just knew wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer here.
“I-I’m gonna come in, okay? Please don’t attack me.” Peter hesitantly opened the door and peeked his head in, eyes turning sad once he saw how frail you had become. You were always a bit scruffy looking, with all your bruises and scars, but you were always able to hide that under baggy clothes and makeup. But now, here you were, in a tank top Natasha lent you—that was objectively too big— and pajama pants left in the room by Mr. Stark. 
“Hey.” Peter closed the door behind him, locking it back up with his workers ID. “Um, I brought you some food. Mr. Stark said you haven’t been eating much, so I brought you Delmar’s.” He held the brown paper bag up and shook it a bit. He frowned when you remained silent. 
“I’ll leave if you want, but you need to eat, (Y/N). You’re skin and bones.” Peter began unpacking the sandwich. “It’s a number five, with pickles and smushed down real flat. The same kind we shared that one time.” He smiled at the memory, sitting on the side of your bed. You scooted further away from him, pressing yourself up against the wall. “(Y/N), come on.” He frowned, sandwich clasped in his hand, “Please, at least look at me.” 
You finally turned around, your red puffy eyes met Peter’s concerned puppy ones. You’d been crying, that’s why you didn’t respond. 
“I missed you.” You sniffled, “You didn’t visit, and I know you probably didn’t want to and you don’t have to, but I missed you. I know you’re angry with me and that I disappointed you, b-but you just left and didn’t come back—” You heaved a sob, “and my mother isn’t looking for me. She’s disappointed in me too, but she never loved me like you loved me, and now you’re disappointed in me and it hurts so bad because I know I’m hurting you, but it's so complicated and you don’t understand and when I say that it just sounds like a shitty excuse. I just—I wish I could start over and be normal and just love you like I’m supposed to.” 
Peter’s eyes began watering again, like they had been doing so much these past two weeks. “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I never meant to leave you like that.” He moved in to hug you and you flinched. 
“It’s not just that.” You cried, “I-I thought you were dead. I couldn’t kill you, so my mother promised that she would complete the mission.”
“No, no I’m here. I’m right here.” Peter moved in to hug you again, this time you let him. His warmth enveloped you just like the night you left him. You held him close, your boney fingers latching onto your nerdy t-shirt as you sniffled into his shoulder. Peter smoothed your hair out with his hand and rubbed soft circles over your waist where his arm clasped around you.
“(Y/N),” He pulled away, holding your face in his hands, “you need to tell them everything.”
“I can’t, Peter.”  You pulled away, ashamed at yourself for the look of disappointment that flashed across his eyes. 
He thought he was finally getting through to you, but one step forward always led to two steps back, and he was exhausted. This tango you had been doing with him had been wearing him down. 
“You can’t?” Peter frowned with a sigh, “You love me, but you can’t save me?” 
His frustrations from the past month were clouding his mind, his thoughts all centered around you and for once he just wished he could stop thinking about you and move on with his life. He was being selfish, but he was so tired. He took a break to spend time with May and focus on school, and when he came back, hoping the team had made some progress, he was met with none. Right back to square one.
“I-I—” You looked at Peter with such a sad and confused look, almost desperate to be free from these burdens. “I’m sorry.” was all you said before laying back down and curling up again, facing away from the boy whose heart you had broken once again.
Peter sighed and stood to leave the room, leaving the sandwich on your bedside table. As he opened the door he looked back at your silhouette in the covers.
“Um, I’ll come back soon, okay?” you didn’t move or speak, you just laid there, numb. “I love you.” Peter left with those final words, closing the door and locking it.
Peter entered the compound’s main living room, where all the Avengers hung out with each other. Thor was even in town for a few weeks while they searched for HYDRA bases in the area. Clint, Sam, Bucky, Steve, and Natasha were playing cards, Euchre or maybe it was Gin Rummy? Peter never learned how to play either of those. Tony was fiddling with one of his holograms with Bruce watching on, providing verbal help every few minutes when he would get stuck. Wanda and Vision were watching Love, Actually and cuddling on the couch.
“Hey, kid!” Tony looked up from the holograms he was working on at the boy. Peter gave him a small smile but proceeded to the kitchen without a word.
He grabbed a banana and a glass of chocolate milk before returning to the living room.
“Hey, Peter.” Steve looked up from his cards and smiled.
“Hi Mr. Rogers.” Peter gave him a tight-lipped smile in return. “What’re you playing?”
“Euchre, want to join in?” Sam surprisingly offered. He never really liked the kid all that much, but even he could tell the poor boy needed a pick me up. 
“No thanks. I’m gonna go watch the cameras.” Peter moved past the group onto the couch Wanda and Vision weren’t currently on. 
He pulled out his SI laptop and pulled up the cameras hooked up to your room. Tony handed the hologram tech he was working on to Bruce and joined Peter on the couch. 
“Hey, watcha looking at?” 
“Just checking to see if she ate that sandwich I brought her.” Peter sighed, he was angry with you. And he had a lot to be angry for, but he still wanted to take care of you. He didn’t want to watch you wither away, no matter how much you may have hurt him. He still loved you. That was his fatal flaw. 
“Yeah, good luck with that. I’ve wasted almost 15 cheeseburgers on that kid. The good quality ones too—” Tony was interrupted when the live footage of you showed you sitting on your bed, reading the copy of The Hobbit that Bucky left in your room for you, contently munching away at the number five with pickles, smushed down real flat. 
“Holy hell, kid.” Tony smiled, “you’ve got the magic touch.”
Peter smiled for the first time in a while too, just happy to see you so content and eating. 
“I know this has been really hard on you. Probably made worse by the fact that she was choosing this life, not forced into it. But I know she’s trying any way she knows how to do what she thinks is right. Things are pretty complicated for her right now and she still has reasons for her actions that are beyond our understanding. And I know that she loves you.” Tony placed a hand on Peter's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. 
“What?” Peter whipped his head around, looking his mentor in the eyes, “how do you know?”
“It was about two weeks ago when you took a break from coming around that she really stopped eating. She never ate much before then, but she ate. After a few days without you visiting she stopped eating and instead she asked when you were coming. We obviously didn’t know the answer so we kind of just shrugged it off. But at night the notification for noise in her room would go off and I’d go to the cameras to make sure she was alright and she’d be crying your name in her sleep.” Tony’s eyes held so much sympathy. He almost teared up retelling how the past two weeks have been. He did tear up when he would watch you call out for Peter and wake up to no one. 
There was something about you that made Tony feel more. Normally, going nearly a month without answers, he’d send you to a different facility, somewhere they’d pry the answers out of you. He’d send you to SHIELD headquarters. But for some odd reason, he wanted to make sure you made it out of this okay, maybe not perfect, but okay enough to come back from this. 
Maybe it was the way he saw how much you loved Peter and Peter loved you, or perhaps it was the fact that you were still a kid to him. A kid who's spent her entire life being fed lies and being subjected to abuse. Tony couldn’t blame you for having your walls so high up. He couldn’t blame you for being so guarded and harsh. In a way, he saw a lot of himself in you, and it terrified him.
“All I’m saying is; as fucked up as it is, and as much and she probably doesn’t want to believe it, that’s love. Pure, unadulterated love.”
“Hey, kid.” A voice called from the other side of your door. “It’s Steve. Can I come in, I have some laundry and I need to change the sheets.”
You groaned and groggily flipped on your bedside lamp. “Yeah.” You called out, rubbing your wrists, reddening from the metal band they put on it to suppress your strength.
Steve used his card to undo the lock and he walked in, laundry basket in hand. He quickly shut the door, locking it up again before you could even get a proper glimpse of the hallway outside. “How’re you feeling?”
“Like a prisoner.” You deadpanned, getting off the bed and beginning to remove the sheets. 
Steve cleared his throat, “Right. Well, you know, if you could just tell us what we needed to know, then we could help you. Get you out of here and back to a normal routine.”
“I never had a normal routine.” You spat. “I was raised in a household where fear and hesitancy would get me killed. I don’t think any part of what I went through is fucking normal.” 
“Being with Peter felt normal, didn’t it?”
You froze your movements, looking up and glaring at the super-soldier putting t-shirt and sweatpants in the drawers of your dresser. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“You won’t tell us anything.” 
“I have my reasons. I’m not just going to throw away my entire life's purpose, not for you or anyone else. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for myself. And maybe that’s wrong, but I’ve never had anyone to do it for.” You frowned, thinking back on your childhood. All the lies your mother told you. How what you were doing was for the greater good. How you always aimed to please her; to make yourself worthy of her affection.
Yet, she wasn’t here now. She probably knew where you were, but she didn’t come to save you. She abandoned you the minute things got complicated. No matter how hard you tried to hold on to her memory, to make it something happy and light, you always came to the same conclusion: she was the reason for your darkness. She was the shadow that shielded you from Peter's warmth.
“You have Peter now.” Steve pointed out, giving you a sympathetic smile when he saw the tears glistening in your eyes. “And if you wanted, you could have us too. You’ll never be too far gone, kid. It’s okay to feel lost, but just know, you’ll always be found again.” 
You rubbed yours eyes, but instead of thanking him, you yawned and began putting the new sheets on the bed. “Bottom drawer, left side.” You nodded your head to the dresser.
“What’s this?” Steve opened the drawer and pulled out a piece of paper. It had a detailed drawing of Bucky, holding a kitten and cuddling with it in a rocking chair. 
“It’s for Bucky.” You sighed, “I felt bad for snapping at him last month. I knew he was nervous, but I still made him feel stupid. So I felt bad and drew that with the crayons Scott gave me.”
Steve smiled as he admired the intricate details of the drawing. “That’s very thoughtful of you. I’ll be sure to give it to him.”
“Whatever.” You mumbled, “Can you go now? I want to go back to sleep.”
“So,” Tony began, staring at your sitting figure in the bleak interrogation room. “I thought maybe I could go in there and try to get some answers. The last time I went in, she threw her shoe at my head, but now she’s only wearing socks, so I should be fine.”
“Yeah, no. Sorry Stark, but she also bit you that one time and that shit got infected as fuck because you’re an idiot who wouldn’t clean it.” Sam said, shaking his head at the thought of Tony going in to interrogate again.
“Yeah, but when she’s angry, she tells us more.” Tony argued, holding his finger up to his chin, thinking it over. 
“All we got last time was that her father is a piece of shit, then she threw that shoe at you so…” 
“She told me she didn’t have a father.” Bucky cocked his head to the side and furrowed his brows. 
“No, you numskull, she said he was ‘out of the picture’. There’s a difference.” Natasha informed him, bopping him upside the head.
“I’ll do it again.” Peter offered. “But maybe we’d get more answers if she felt safer, y’know? Not in a bleak stone-walled room, I mean.”
“Kid might be onto something.” Bruce spoke up. “She tells Peter more than she’s ever told any of us. He probably would get more answers if she knew we weren’t watching her every move.”
“We can’t just not watch her. She’s dangerous.” Wanda piped up, motioned to the glass barrier between you and the team. 
“Actually, my love, the wristband she’s wearing removes her enhanced strength. She’s essentially a normal human now.” Vision spoke, holding a finger up.
“Well it’s the best plan we have.” Steve was the first to concede, “Where do you wanna take her, Queens?”
“I have just the place.”
“Where are you taking me?” You hesitantly asked as Peter led you to the woods next to the compound. 
“You’ll see.” He smiled, “Close your eyes?” He held out a hand for you to take and you reached a shaky hand out to clasp it. 
“I won’t hurt you,” He chuckled, beginning to lead you through the thicket. “It’s a good surprise, I promise.”
Peter led you deep into the woods. The picnic he set up was in a clearing next to a rushing river. When the sunset shone over the hill on the other side, the entire clearing lit up with a bright orange light. It was beautiful. 
He came here by himself a lot. It was his own personal tradition for him to come on Ben’s birthday after spending the day with aunt May. He loved her dearly, but in the evening they both took time to themselves to remember Ben on their own. To remember who he was to each of them individually. To May, he was her soulmate, the love of her life. And to Peter, he was a father figure, a mentor, and a shining light on his darkest days after his parents’ deaths.
“Okay, we’re almost there.” Peter said, guiding over a log and under a tilted tree branch. 
Peter walked you into the clearing, breathing a sigh of relief to see that his picnic basket remained untouched, and the flowers didn’t wilt or blow away while he helped you get ready. 
“Can I open my eyes now?” 
“Yeah.” Peter let go of your hand and stood beside the fluffy blue blanket he set out. “Okay, open them.”
Once your eyes adjusted, you saw Peter standing there, a bashful smile on his face and he scratched the back of his neck. Next to him was a bouquet of wildflowers, tied together in a yellow ribbon. There was a cooler next on the blanket next to the flowers, and a note on the cooler that said ‘For Peter and (Y/N): DO NOT TOUCH’, written by Tony.
Your eyes widened when you saw the scene in front of you. 
“D-Do you like it?” Peter asked, walking up to you, standing in front of you with a hopeful glint in his eyes. “It’s okay if you don’t. I wasn’t sure if this was your style. And it’s not like it’s a date—I mean, unless you want it to be, then it is. It’s just—things got pretty complicated for a while and my heart was kinda broken, but it’s okay now. I still love you—and you don't have to say it back. I just wanted you to know. Y’know? And we kinda did the thing, but I never took you on a date and that wasn’t very gentlemanly of me, so if you want it to be a date it is. But it doesn't have to be. I just want you to be happy—” 
You cut off Peter's incessant nervous rambling with a kiss to his cheek. “It’s a date.” You decided, pulling away and smiling at him. “Definitely a date.”
Peter beamed at you, leading you to sit on the fluffy blanket with him. Peter unpacked the cooler, pulling out two take-out boxes with Thai food and a bottle of sparkling cider. “Mr. Stark tried to sneak us some wine, but Pepper caught him at the last minute, so he got us this.” Peter said, pouring some of the cider in a fancy champagne glass.
“Why do you like him?” You said, taking the glass as Peter offered it to you. 
“Well,” Peter began, “he’s my mentor. After my uncle Ben died, I didn’t really have a strong father figure in life. Then Mr. Stark found me and took me in. He helped me to learn how to use my powers responsibly and how to watch out for the little guys. I don’t know, he’s like a father to me I guess.” 
You scoffed and rolled your eyes, causing Peter to look up and furrow his brows. “He’s a selfish ass.” You spat, “He was a playboy that sold his daddy’s weapons after inheriting a company that never should have gone to him. He slept around with countless women and then left them. I’m surprised he’s even married, to be honest.” You shrugged, the hatred for him evident in your eyes. 
Peter was appalled at the hateful words you were spewing about his father figure. “No, he’s changed, really. He’s a great father to Morgan and he’s so in love with Mrs. Potts it’s crazy. He shouldn’t be held accountable for his past actions when he’s done so much to atone for them now.”
“He wouldn’t even care about you if you were normal.” You sneered, “he’d pass you by without a second glance.”
Peter’s face fell, the hurt swimming around in his irises. You softened your gaze when you noticed how much your words had impacted him. You’d already put him through so much pain the past month, you didn’t mean to hurt him again.
“I’m sorry,” you said, quietly, “that was out of line. My issues with Stark shouldn’t affect your relationship with him.” 
Peter sighed but nodded, “He really has changed, (Y/N). Sure, he’s made mistakes, but each mistake was a lesson learned.” 
You nodded along, poking a fork into the pad thai in front of you. “I guess you’re right. We’ve all made mistakes before. I just—You wouldn’t understand.” You frowned. The secret of your parentage was the only leverage you’ve ever had over Tony Stark. By the looked of things now, you probably weren’t going to kill him. You’d have to kill Peter too and it’s become all too obvious that that task would be left unfinished, ergo you could not kill Tony. But the secret still shouldn't be let out. The world would break and Peter would feel so betrayed. All the progress you made would be for nothing.
“Mr. Stark cares about you.” Peter said, digging into his larb. “He watches the cameras in the room whenever he hears a lot of noise in there to make sure you’re alright. He’s the one that convinced the rest of the team not to send you to The Raft.”
You smiled at Peter, “That’s so minor though, compared to my reasoning.” 
“Then tell me your reasoning, (Y/N). I can’t help you or even begin to understand if you keep hiding things from me.”
“Some secrets aren’t meant to come to light, Peter.” You gave him a tight-lipped smile, “It doesn’t matter anyways; it’s in the past.” 
“It matters to me.” Peter held your hand in his, “I can tell you hate Mr. Stark, I think everyone can actually, but I love you so much, and Mr. Stark is like my dad. It would just mean a lot to me if you could learn to love him the way I do.” 
You nodded, “I’ll try.” 
The rest of the late evening was spent cuddling on the blanket, taking silly pictures on Peter’s phone. 
“(Y/N),” Peter sighed, arms wrapped around you and you both laid on the blanket watching the sunset. “You know you can trust me, right?” 
“I know, Pete.” You smiled, nuzzling your head into his neck.
“Then, can you tell me a little more? About you, about your motives. I want to understand. I want to help you any way I can. We all do.” 
“‘We all do’?” You sat up, Peter following, panic in his eyes when his brain caught up to his words. “What do you mean ‘we all do’? A-are they listening in on us right now?” 
You looked at Peter’s guilty face, offense and hurt flashing on yours. “This wasn’t a date, was it? You just wanted to butter me up so you could get answers for the fucking Avengers!” Your voice raised as you drew the final conclusion, anger seeping into your tone. 
“No, (Y/N)! It’s not like that!” Peter protested as you stood up and began packing the cooler back up to go back to the compound. You’d rather be stuffed in your prison of a room than sitting here with Peter. “(Y/N), please listen to me!”
“No, I don’t want to hear it. I know I hurt you. I know what I did was unforgivable, but you forgave me anyway. You continued to spout out that you loved me, and like a fucking idiot I sat here and believed you. I should’ve known I was too far gone for you.”
“No, (Y/N)! I do love you, you’re not too far gone, I can still save you!”
“Even if you were right, even if you did love me, you still tricked me into coming out here, telling me it was a fucking date, just so you could interrogate me for your stupid fucking team of freaks!” You threw the flowers he picked at him. 
“Listen to me for fucks sake!” Peter dodged the flowers, “I just needed answers, we needed answers. (Y/N) we’re running out of time! Your mom is still out there planning on reeking havoc, and we have to stop her.”
You were about to respond when the sound of a gun clicking interrupted you.
“Looks like you're already out of time, my dear.” 
✧tags & moots✧: @ptersmj @princessofguineapigs @ptersmj @princessofguineapigs @peterbenjiparker @cherrytholland @itsapeterthing @justapurrcat @thirstiestpotato @kelieah @iovebug @waitimcomingtoo @rosyparkers @parkers-gal @allegra-writes @starktonyx @felicityparkers @hollandcrush @londonspidey @blissfulparker @spidernerdsblog @spidey-sophie @spideyspeaches @duskangxls @peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology @andilovetowrite @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @babebenhardy @blackxwidowsxwife @juliannaamonroe @sinisterspidey @amourmarvel​ @hollandsdream​ @annathesillyfriend​ @itsyellowbear25 @fckinel @hornyhoursonly
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sinisterspidey · 2 days ago
how do you manage to change up the whole plot of a fic and still have me hooked bitch wtf
omg rip i thought this was a hate ask at first 😭 lmao but thank you so much :’) i’m glad you’re hooked! tbh i was worried about people losing interest in my writing because of this whole thing so thank you for sending this in. it was very timely hehe <3
check out anchor, a college!peter x stark!reader series
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rosyparkers · 2 days ago
make it right | series.
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❝ after much soul-searching and trying to find your own path, you end up in a quaint little town near london, where your closest friend lives. luckily for you, a full-time kindergarten teacher position has just opened up. a couple of months after you’ve hung up your name in front of classroom 2-b, the last person you expect to see picking up a bubbly little boy is tom holland, the man who left you behind all those years ago. ❞
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❀ one ❀
❀ two ❀
❀ three ❀
❀ four ❀
❀ five ❀
❀ six ❀
✎ updates every other friday starting june 2021.
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​⇨ omg I am so excited!! I’ve had this idea for more than a year, but I lacked the time and motivation to dedicate myself to a series. now that I’ve gotten back into writing more regularly and my semester is coming to an end, I’ve dug this baby out of the drafts and I’m ready to write it. 
however, I want to make it clear that, although I’m publishing this masterlist now, the story itself won’t be posted until june! I just want to get it out and make sure this is something y’all are interested in, as well as hype it up until I start posting it next month!!
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sinisterspidey · 2 days ago
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anchor ☆ prologue - sympathy
a/n: here it is! it’s shorter than i intend the chapters to be, which will be around 4-6k. nonetheless, this is really just to build up the ~dynamic~ and the ~vibes~, yanno? so, please enjoy, and lmk if you’d like to be added to the taglist via ask or dm! and thank you to the lovely @rosyparkers for your banner and your editing skills, you’re an icon. also! if you’d like to be tagged in this series just lmk <3 and, as a fun little twist, each part of this series is named after a song title from the album ‘father of the bride’ by vampire weekend, and the text will begin with some lyrics from that song in italics :D
warnings: drinking mentions, slut-shaming mentions
word count: 1.1k
alone in someone’s bedroom she firmly took my hand the isolation ended i began to understand
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For the past two years, Peter’s been having dinner with Pepper and Morgan on the first Friday of every month, and they’ve grown from uncomfortable moments of shared grief to comforting and warm check-ins with each other. Though Peter didn’t really know Pepper while Tony was alive, he’s gotten to know her since, and she’s become another motherly figure to him. On the rare occasions that he couldn’t go to May for something, he knew that he could always rely on Pepper. 
And, Pepper, in return, grew to rely on Peter, especially when it came to Morgan. He always made time for her, and was glad to babysit her whenever she called. 
However, after reading Pepper’s text, he’s not as pleased as he is about dinner with the Starks as he’d grown to be.
Because, apparently, you’re joining, and he hasn’t seen you in two years. 
He last saw you at Tony’s funeral, and a week later, when you told him that you were going to finish high school in Switzerland at some fancy boarding school for rich kids like yourself. Even the chance to deter you from going was taken from him, as you only gave him the news when you stopped by his apartment on the way to the airport. 
For someone who’s lost both his parents and his uncle, disappeared into dust, and saw the death of his mentor, that day ranks surprisingly high on the list of “worst days in Peter Parker’s life.”
And even after you crushed him that day, he tried texting and calling you for the first few months, but eventually, he just gave up. It became abundantly clear to him that you had zero intention whatsoever of involving him in your new life, and instead had every intention of creating an entirely different life for yourself that lacked any trace of Peter Parker.
“If you don’t go, you’re a coward,” Ned pipes in, from where he’s laying on his dorm room bed across from Peter’s desk, crunching on a bag of potato chips.
Peter turns around in his desk chair, shooting his longtime friend and current roommate an unamused expression.
Ned, unbothered, continues munching, scrolling through his phone.
“I’m not a coward...I simply don’t want to go,” Peter says, though Ned remains thoroughly unconvinced.
“I think that you do want to go.”
“You’re an idiot,” Peter says, before turning back around in his chair, continuing to stare at the text.
“I think that you’re just scared that you’re still in love with the girl you were in love with two years ago,” Ned taunts.
“We’ve been over this, Ned. I was never in love with… her. I literally dated MJ immediately after she left,” Peter defends, though he knows his defense is shaky, at best.
Ned rolls his eyes, “Yeah, and then you broke up with her because—”
“Okay, okay! If I agree to go will you not bring up… that?!” Peter relents, thoroughly annoyed with his friend. To this day, the reason that he broke up with MJ remains more painful than the fact that they broke up in the first place.
“Sure,” Ned agrees, though not managing to do so without rolling his eyes, before turning his attention away from Peter and back to his phone.
Peter hovers his hands over the phone’s keyboard. Yes, he wants to accept, if not just for Pepper and Morgan’s sake. But, even though he wants to forget about it and erase it from memory, you hurt him. 
Not only did he lose Tony, but he lost you, too. He lost his best friend, and that can’t be over exaggerated. He’d seen you at your worst, and you’d seen him at his. And, yeah, maybe a small part of him thought that you and him might end up together, but that was all crushed when you pulled the rug out from under him.
If there’s one person he saw more than anyone else—it was you. He saw you at school, at his internship, and occasionally on patrol when you would sneak out of the Tower and meet him on a slow night. And then there were the Compound sleepovers, and the pranks on Sam and Bucky.
But you essentially just left him floundering. You were his anchor. And then you weren’t.
Yet he also knows he’ll have to see you eventually. And the news that you’re back in town combined with the constant coverage of you in the papers reminds him of that.
“Y/N Stark Gone Wild: Spotted At A Club for the Fifth Time in a Week.”
“Y/N Stark Seen Doing the Walk-of-Shame from Harry Osborn Apartment—Again.”
And he hates that the headlines make him worried for you. Part of him wants to say that it’s “what you deserve,” but he knows that’s far from the truth, in addition to just being cruel. You lost your father, and clearly that—combined with whatever you “learned” at boarding school—is causing your current PG-13 behavior. 
But then he thinks… he would’ve helped you. Even though he was grieving Tony’s loss for himself, he would’ve grieved with you. He was willing to mourn with you and be as good of a friend as he’d always been, but you made him think that he wasn’t enough. Your act of leaving just reinforced his own insecurities in his ability of being a good friend and, maybe, eventually, a good boyfriend.
And you knew that it was one of his greatest fears. He tried so long to understand your side of it, but after a while, part of him thought your behavior was ridiculous. 
So ridiculous, perhaps, that the old Y/N Stark was dead. 
And in a weird way, that makes Peter’s acceptance of Pepper’s invitation easier. Because if you’re an entirely different person than you were two years ago, he won’t miss you so much. If he creates a different version of you in his mind, then he can hold onto the fact that Y/N, his best friend, didn’t abandon him. Instead, Y/N, his best friend, died, and this new, unfamiliar Y/N lived. It’s morbid, and Peter knows that it’s probably ridiculously unhealthy and not at all a sustainable line of thinking, but it gives him a weird sense of...peace. Or, at least, it gives him the ability to stand in the same room as you for an extended amount of time without screaming every terrible thought he’s had about you in the past two years and then slamming the door and leaving.
And that’s why he types, “I’ll be there, Pep,” and then clicks send.
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sinisterspidey · 2 days ago
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anchor ☆ series masterlist
pairing: college!peter x stark!reader
updates: every other friday.
prologue - sympathy (posted on may 5.)
chapter 1 - stranger (posted on may 7.)
chapter 2 - harmony hall (coming on may 21.)
ongoing total word count: 7.2k
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summary: in 2018, you and peter were joined at the hip—but that was before the blip that caused both of you to disappear and before the reversal of the blip which caused the death of your father and peter’s mentor, tony stark. and it’s made even more difficult for peter when you jet off to boarding school, leaving him to finish high school without you, his best friend.
he convinces himself that he’s happy about your disappearance, which is relatively easy until you come back to new york city, right when he starts college. and though he wants to avoid you just like you avoided him for the past two years, it’s hard to do when you’re in the headlines every single day because you’re getting drunk more than half of the days in the week and sleeping with every eligible bachelor on the upper east side. you remind him too much of tony in the years before iron man, and it worries him sick. keeping his distance from you might be a lot harder than he had planned.
☆ send feedback ☆
a/n: finally i’ve found a series that i’m actually planning on writing and finishing...what a, it follows the events of endgame and far from home, except for ya know...the ffh post-credit scene :P 
if you want to be tagged in this series, please send in an ask or message me. it will be a separate taglist from my main taglist, so even if you’re on there, you won’t be on this one unless you notify me separately.
this fic is suitable for all ages, and if smut is included (who knows...not me) it will be clearly marked in the chapters.
also, all of the chapter titles are based off of song titles from the album ‘father of the bride’ by vampire weekend. who knows if the songs actually connect to the content of each chapter? not me ;)
lastly, i want to thank the amazing @rosyparkers for not only making me this header, but also for reading and editing my extremely “rough” rough drafts. you’re an icon, you amazing queen.
series taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed, and strikethrough means i couldn’t tag you): @lolooo22​ ✩ @softholand​ @nuttytani​ ✩ @more-like-reyna​ ✩ @sofsoftheloaf​ ✩ @millennial-teenybopper​ ✩ @aussie-holland​ ✩ @ricochetweb​ ✩ @chubsluda​ ✩ @richkookie​ ✩ @quacksonfrog ✩ @juicyphatcooter​ ✩ @slutforsebstan​ ✩ @squirrelsarescaryman​ ✩ @cali-holland​ ✩ @cocoamoonmalfoy​ ✩ @castawayclaires ✩ @antigoneidk​ ✩ @augustholland​ ✩ @marveloussensations​ ✩ @pinklxmonade​ ✩ @adayasgeorgia​ ✩ @tomshufflepuff​ ✩ @veryholland​ ✩ @lauras-collection​ ✩ @parkers-gal​ ✩ @parkerliciouspeter​ ✩ @prentisswrites​ ✩ @serieholic-by-heart​ ✩ @asonofpeter​ ✩ @parkerbunny​ ✩ @bljssfully​ 
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Through The Years (Part 8)
⛈-Angst 🌧-Both ✨-Series ☁️-Undecided/I don’t freaking know ⚡️🔥-Triggering Possible
Word Count:3150
Warnings: language, me havin no idea what happens at a, VERY long
 I also have no idea what happens in a wedding soooooo yeah.
Taglist (Line through means unable to tag)
@bonkynsteeb @rosiexx8 @fangirlfree @marilynmonroefanfics @leniram1890 @talksoprettyjjx @veronicapaula​ @drpepperobsessed @quezzzzz16 @marvel-baby  @southernraven @sohoseb @rottenstyx @jellyb34n​
Through The Years Taglist
Requests are OPEN (click here for guidelines and here to request)
Peter Parker Masterlist
Series Masterlist
Main Masterlist
(Age 3, Age 6, Age 9, Age 12, Age 15, Age 18, Age 21, Age 27)
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Age 24
Y/N adjusted the towel on her body and moved to lay on her stomach, adjusting the computer screen too. “When you are guys supposed to get here?”
Peter scratched the back of his head, “Um...we should get there at about 5 for you, I think.” He looked up and nodded and looked back down, “Yeah, Happy just confirmed that it’ll be about 5. Why?”
“To know when I should leave to go pick you up.”
“I love how you’re casually making everyone else stay at a hotel and having me be with you.”
“Well, you are my boyfriend, Peter.”
He laughed, “Yeah I guess that makes sense.” He sighed, “What time is it for you?”
“Almost 4. I should probably get some clothes on.”
“I mean...I wouldn’t oppose to you not putting something on.”
“Peter Benjamin Parker!”
He laughed, “I’m joking!”
“You better be joking kid.”
It was her turn to laugh as Pepper’s voice faintly came through the headphones. “Well, I mean, I could always wear this tonight.”
“I love you.”
“I love you more.”
“No, I think I love you more.”
“No, I really think I love you more.”
“Who is flying all the way across the world just to see you graduate.”
“I’m sorry, but I did the same thing and I surprised you with it. So I think I win.”
He smiled, “I guess you do.” He moved a hair from his face, “Hey, Ima mute myself for a minute.”
“Okay?” He muted himself and got up. Y/N rolled her eyes when she saw he had a pair of Hello Kitty pajama pants on. Only her boyfriend could have the fashion sense of a 5 year old. She sighed and got up and walked into her closet. She grabbed a random t-shirt that she was pretty sure was Peter’s and a pair of jeans. By the time she was fully dressed, Peter was just sitting back down. “What took you so long?”
“Aunt May had to talk to me.”
“Ah, also, nice pants.”
“In case you didn’t notice, I changed them too. But thank you.”
She smiled, “Sorry, I too was getting dressed.” She looked at the clock on her computer, “Do you know how far out you are?”
“Oh yeah, that too, we’re about 30 minutes till landing.”
“Okay, well, I’m gonna go and leave. I have to feed my roommates dog before I go.”
“Okay, I’ll see you soon.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
She ended the Skype call and closed her computer. She sighed as she placed it on the small desk. She grabbed her phone and keys off of her bed and flipped her lights off before shutting her door. She walked over to Katherine’s room and opened the door. She flipped the lights on and walked in. Kat’s small Yorkie was asleep on the bed. Walking over to grab the food bowl and food she sent a text to Kat to let her know. She placed the bowl on the floor and poured the food in. She heard the jingle of the collar and she looked over at the dog as she patted the ground. “Buddy, I have your food.” He jumped off the bed and dashed over to eat. She smiled and patted the dogs head. She sent a quick text to her other roommate, Taylor, to let her know that Buddy was fed and she would need to walk him when she woke up.
Y/N nearly fell on her face when she got out of her car and ran to Peter. She wrapped her arms around him and she heard him laugh as he spun her around slightly. She soon felt his lips on hers and she smiled at the old feeling. She had missed this. Being in his arms. Feeling safe. When they pulled away she smiled at him and moved some of his hair out of his face. “I missed you Spidey.”
“I missed you too Y/N/N.”
“C’mon, I wanna take you back to my apartment before we go eat. My roommates should both be gone.”
He gave her a knowing smile and quickly went to place his bag in her car so they could get there.
Y/N sighed as Peter took a shower. She had gotten done with hers about 10 minutes ago and was having to get redressed. She grabbed a jacket for a few reasons...well, two, but still, one of them being because it was gonna be below 50 and for her that’s cold and two, she wanted to hide any hickey’s that might appear.
“Shower would’ve been much more enjoyable with you in it.”
“Ah yes, but then neither of us would have gotten clean.”
“The whole point of the shower was so no one knew what we did.”
He wrapped his arms around her, “But everyone knows we’re dating.”
“Okay, fine, how would you feel if May showed up to something, obviously having just had sex.”
“You really think that May still has sex?”
“I--what the fuck Peter?”
“No, I--I need to know if my girlfriend thinks that my Aunt still has sex.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, “Really Peter?”
“Really! That’s very weird to me!”
She laughed, “Alright, fine.” She leaned in and kissed him, “I love you.”
“I love you more.”
He smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist, “I’m proud of you.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, “Really?”
“Yeah, you’re graduating from Cambridge University with a Masters Degree in Jornalism.” He kissed her, “I’m so fucking proud and in love with you.”
She smiled, “Well, I’m proud and in love with you too.”
Y/N quickly woke up. her alarm blaring in her ear. “For fucks sake.” She grabbed her phone and pressed stop. Groaning she looked at the time, 10:20 AM. “Oh motherfucker!” She practically jumped out of bed and ran to her closet.
“I was meant to be up an hour ago! I have to be at the senate house in an hour and I still need to get ready! Fuck fuck, fuck!”
Peter was extremely confused as he watched her get dressed the fastest he’s ever seen her. “Want me to drop you off?”
“I’ll drive and park, you wait for the others, or you can stand with Miranda. She’s my roommate who’s number I gave you for today.”
“Can I stand with her while I wait for the others?”
“Yeah.” She grabbed all of her things and faced Peter, “How do I look?” He didn’t say anything and just smiled, “Peter?!”
“You look amazing, as usual.”
She smiled, “Thank you for boosting my ego. Now, let’s go.”
Y/N sighed as the music blared. The Avengers had decided to through a party for Y/N graduating. Some of her friends, her 3 roommates, were there too. The graduation finished hours ago and now they were at a place that Y/N’s dad used to own. It was surprising that even though he went to jail and was a fraud, he still had a lot of money and owned places. It was the funniest thing. Other than when it came out that he was gay, that was...surprising to those who didn’t know him.
Anyways, the loudness was getting to Y/N so she stepped out. Peter followed her, thinking about how this could be his opportunity to ask her. He knew he was young, but if he had to choose her or the sun then he’d be one nocturnal son of a gun.
The wind blew hair in her face and she kept brushing it away. Smiling at Peter as she looked his way. He gave her a soft smile back. God, he was still falling in love with this girl, even after dating for 3 years and being in love for over 6 years. He laughed to himself, he should mention that. 3. It was a common number in their relationship. Always appearing. Everything happening by divisibles of 3. He loved it, oddly enough. It was both predictable and not because you never knew how major it would be. Plus, some big things happened and they weren’t a multiple of 3.
“Hey, Y/N/N?”
She turned her head to him again, “Yeah?”
“Um...fuck, I really thought this would be simple and easy.” He let out an awkward laugh, “Wow, uh, well, Y/N, you know I love you, right?”
She nodded, scared. “Yeah.”
“I have loved you since we were...actually, you know what? I don’t know how long I’ve loved you. I spent so long convincing myself that I didn’t that I actually forgot how long I’ve loved you.”
“Peter, what’s happening?”
“Our life has happened in multiples of 3. We met when we were 3. My parents died when we were 6 and you joked saying I was Anakin and Luke,” They both laughed, “When we were 9 everything with your dad happened. When we were 12 we argued about what happened in DC and who’s fault it was and we had one of my favorite memories of Uncle Ben and I have no idea why it is. Then when we were 15, you were there with me when he died. 18, well, I don’t need to say what all happened.” She laughed at his comment, “But then 3 years ago I asked you to be my girlfriend and you said yes. So, now,” He got down on one knee and she gasped, “I’m asking you if you’ll be my wife.”
“Y/N Y/L/N Y/L/N-Hammer, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”
She nodded, “Yes, of course I will Peter.”
He smiled and slipped the ring on her finger. She recognized it as his mothers which finally made the tears come out. He kissed her and then pulled her into a tight hug. They stayed like that, in each others arms, for who knows how long. They only separated when Aunt May’s voice rang out.
“You two okay?” They looked at Aunt May and Y/N casually raised her hand up and they both heard Aunt May’s gasp. “Really?” They both nodded and she smiled widely, “Is that what you needed your moms ring for, Peter?” He nodded and Aunt May clapped, happily. “Congratulations! I’m so happy for you two!”
The couple was happy, they really were and in six short months, they were even happier. But also freaked out because well, it was their wedding day.
Y/N stood in front of the mirror. She was shaking out of fear. I mean, she was getting married. But she was getting married to Spiderman. They almost didn’t have a wedding because of what all was happening. Mysterio turned back up and Peter was having to deal with his again. But that didn’t matter. They set the date and so they had to go through with it. Y/N remembered how she laughed when he said that. It was actually funny because he was in a pair of Iron Man pajama pants and looked like a kid.
She jumped as she heard a knock at the door, “Don’t worry, it’s just May and Pepper.”
She let out a breath, “Then come on in.” The two women walked in and Y/N turned to them, “So?”
Aunt May smiled and walked over to Y/N. Kissing the top of her head she held her arms lightly, “You look so beautiful sweetheart.”
Pepper nodded, “May is right. You look as regal as a queen.”
“Thank you.”
“Peter went down 10 minutes ago. We came up because it’s gonna start soon.”
She nodded, “Okay, thanks. I’ll be down in a second.” Y/N looked down and tried to flatten out some invisible line. Trying to calm herself down. Aunt May gave Pepper a look and the latter walked out of the room. Y/N looked up and gave May a look, “Is everything alright?”
“I don’t know, is it?”
Y/N nodded, “Yeah? Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You look freaked dear.”
“Well I’m fine.”
May walked over to Y/N and hugged her, “Ben would be so happy for you two. He always told me that the day you two got married would be the best day of his life. Finally seeing Peter and you happy.”
“Yeah. He always wanted you two to realize that you really loved each other. He didn’t care that you were only 12-15, he knew the looks you two gave each other because he gave them to me when we first started to like each other.” May moved a piece of Y/N’s hair out of her face. “He always spoke of how he could care less about what else would be happening. That, if he was alive, your wedding would be the best day and always be celebrated.” May laughed, obviously trying not to cry. “It’s just...he would be so proud of the two of you. You’ve accomplished so much these past few years. And, I know you’ve heard it a million times but, I am so happy and proud of you, Y/N. You have always been there for everyone who’s needed you and I just...I’m happy that this day is finally here.”
Y/N smiled, “I am too. I--I’m so happy that we finally get this. Even with what all is happening, I’m happy that we finally get something happy.” 
May nodded, “As do I.”
There was a knock at the door and Sam stuck his head in, “Hello ladies, are we--oh my god, Y/N, you look amazing.”
Y/N laughed, “Thank you Sam.”
He clicked, “Anytime. Anyways, you ready?”
She looked at May and nodded, looking back at Sam, “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
Peter stood, waiting for YN. Of course when he did she her, he didn’t expect to nearly fall in tears. She looked so beautiful. From her hair to her outfit to her shoes. She just looked so damn beautiful. He felt so proud to call her his. He held his hand out as Sam passed her to him. She placed her hand in his and followed him the rest of the way. As she mouthed a small ‘I love you’ he smiled and mouthed ‘I love you’ back.
All of that formal stuff had happened and the couple was just waiting for the final words. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Her arms wrapped around his neck as his lips crashed into hers and his arms were around her waist. She smiled into the kiss. Happy to be here in his arms. Happy to be Mrs. Peter Parker.
Y/N adjusted how she was sitting as Peter was handed the mic. “Hi? Um, this is on right?” Murmurs of yes were heard and he nodded, “Awesome. So, I just want to thank you all for coming here. I uh...I’m just so happy that I get to spend the rest of my life with the crazy lady known at Y/N.” She, along with others, laughed at that. He smiled at her, “Where to start? Oh god. Well, I’ve known Y/N for 21 years know. We met when we were 3 at the park. She’s been with me for years and has never left my side even when she probably wanted to.” He sighed, “I’m an idiot, honestly. I--I ignored my feelings for her for I don’t know how long. It literally was for so long that I have no clue anymore. But still. I’ve loved her for years but I was too chicken to tell her because I was scared I would ruin our friendship. Turns out, she felt the same. I felt like an idiot when I finally realized it. The signs were all there, but I chose to ignore them. You know, back to me saying there have been times where she could have and probably wanted to, leave me. I actually have an example.” 
“Oh dear.”
“The first would be when I was a complete idiot back in the summer of 2024. was obvious that she liked me now that I think about it, but I didn’t see it. I kept telling myself, ‘Peter, you like MJ, not Y/N. MJ. Not Y/N.’ Well, that was a huge lie. I remember, when Beck was doing everything that he was in London, all I could think was, ‘Oh god, don’t hurt Y/N. Don’t hurt Y/N. Don’t hurt my best friend.’ I did so much on that trip in general that she should have just stopped being my friend. But she didn’t.” He scratched the back of his head, “I actually have no idea what I’m supposed to be saying. So what I’ve said is probably stupid and dumb and makes no sense, but still.” He raised his glass, “Here’s to Mrs. Y/N Parker. First the love of my life, then my wife, but always my best friend and number 1 supporter.” Everyone took a sip of their drinks. Everyone but Y/N. She was crying. Peter made her cry with what he said. “I love you, Y/N.”
She smiled, “I love you too.” It came out as a whisper, barely audible for someone who wasn’t listening but everyone in that room heard her.
Y/N took the mic a few songs later, “Wow, I--how do I even compare to that? I--I mean, I’m still crying some.” She wiped away some tears. “Peter Parker, I remember when I met you, I was so excited that someone wanted to play with me. My friends had left me, yeah, a bunch of 3 and 4 year olds were already being mean and left me at the bench. If you were to tell me then that I would marry you one day, I would say you’re crazy...and that it’s crazy because boys have cooties. And cooties are gross.” People laughed and Peter shook his head while he did. “Now, if you told 15 year old me that in 10 years I would be married to Peter, I think I would ask you to punch me. Because why? Why would he love me of all people? Why would he love me when there’s MJ. That’s a question I asked a lot after I was blipped. I kept saying, ‘what do I have against her? He’s obviously in love with her. I should just back off.’ But...I wish I could tell 17 or so year old me that, hey, give it time, but you and Peter fuck like...right after graduation and then you casually wait for 3 years till you get together. But at least you fucked! So that’s out of the way!” She heard practically everyone laugh and so did she, “Yeah, not my proudest moment, but hey! At least we did something crazy before getting together!” She smiled and lifted her glass, “I love you Peter Benjamin Parker. I always have and always will.”
Which would never be a lie. Y/N has always loved Peter and she knew she never would stop.
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iamlokiofasgards · 2 days ago
Loki : Stay away from me mortal kid
Peter : yes sir
Loki : And don't call me sir
Peter : yes mam , oh I mean sorry mr Loki , I really didn't mean it
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blindingdutchy · 2 days ago
lamentation | THREE
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{peter parker x fem!reader AU}
based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven
word count: 3,310
warnings: depression, anxiety, grief, mental illness! descriptions of injury/blood/gore! angst
18+!!! minors stay away!
Peter Parker: are you okay??
Peter Parker: (Y/N)?
Peter Parker: why aren't you at school? please tell me you're okay
You shut your phone off and buried your head under your pillow again, wishing for nothing more than to go back to sleep and escape life completely. All weekend long, and especially all morning, your phone had been ringing non stop with texts from Peter Parker. As much as you wished you could say you hadn't read them, you had.
You'd read them all almost as soon as you'd received them, but you just couldn't bring yourself to respond. You didn't need friends. You didn't want friends. Peter Parker was not your friend, and you were determined to keep it that way. No matter how hard he tried to force himself into your life, you were not going to let him in; you couldn't.
You couldn't let him in and risk getting hurt again, and today was yet another painful reminder of why. It was her birthday. At least, it would have been if she weren't dead. If you hadn't put her in the wrong place at the right time, ending her life and ruining yours forever.
For one tiny moment after you woke up, one minuscule fraction of a second, you forgot the importance of the day. You forgot what made the day different, and you forgot that your sister was dead. Or, rather, did you forget you ever had a sister at all? Had--that was the word that made you weep.
That fleeting moment of ignorance was the exact reason why it should have been you and not her. Surely, she never would have forgotten your birthday, or you, or your absence. She never would have looked at the date and even hesitated in remembering what the significance was. Always the better sister, the better person, the one who deserved it all.
Since that moment you had not left your bed, and Peter's latest slew of texts forced you to look at the time and acknowledge that hours had passed. It was lunch time, hours and hours since you'd awoken, and you had not moved even an inch. Everything felt too heavy.
The air felt too thick, gravity too strong, your body made of stone; you wondered if you were even able to move. Of course, you had shut your phone off so clearly you could move, but you didn't want to. It was so hard, so unbelievably hard to move. Why did everything have to be so tough?
As you laid there, staring at the blackened void of the backs of your eyelids because you just couldn't shut your mind off, your thoughts wandered through all the darkest places. Would she have been ashamed to see you like this? Would she have been disgusted with how you were acting, the person you had become?
God, why couldn't you just shut it off? Why couldn't you just make it all stop? That was all you wanted anymore. You wanted the thoughts, the feelings, the memories, everything, to just go away. You wanted to just exist in the empty void that only came about when you were sleeping. The space where your senses were gone and it was just you.
Or, maybe, you didn't want to exist at all. That wasn't to say that you wanted to die, even though you did, but rather that you just wanted to cease to exist. You wanted to never be, to never have been. It was complex thought that was equally as heavy and taxing to ponder.
Would that have made a difference? Would she have lived if you had never been around, never been alive, to lead her down all the paths that lead to that moment? If you hadn't existed, she wouldn't have been in the park at that perfect moment. If she, by some mystical force, had been there anyways, she wouldn't have lingered behind to save you.
Everyone's lives would have been so much better without you. Your parents wouldn't have had to work so much to afford everything for you and your sister. Your grandma might have lived longer, not having to exert herself so much to watch after the troublesome child that you had been. Maybe the butterfly effect of your lack of existence would have reached so far that the world would generally be a better place, too.
You barked a laugh at the thought, your voice hoarse from dehydration and lack of use. How pathetic it was of you to think you had so much of an impact! You surely were not so important that you changed that much about the world.
"(Y/N), honey?"
The world got a little heavier at the sound of your door creaking open and your mother's soft, hesitant voice. When you didn't respond, nor even move a muscle, she sighed, "(Y/N), you need to eat. I made some soup, I'll even bring it up to you if you want."
Despite the fact that you didn't feel hungry in even the slightest capacity, your stomach rumbled loudly at the mention of food. "Okay." you whispered, and when the door clicked shut again the silence was overwhelming.
She would have been so disappointed in you. You knew just how much you worried your parents with every passing day, and as much as you wanted to be better and make them feel better, you just couldn't bring yourself to care. You couldn't bring yourself to care about your wellbeing or how all the things you were doing, or not doing, affected your parents.
Caring wasn't easy anymore, and it felt foreign. You were so bogged down under all the baggage on your back, on your shoulders, and on your head that you couldn't expend any of the energy required to do so. If you did, if you tried, you'd surely have collapsed under the weight.
Your mother came back and left once more just as quickly, sighing quietly as she tried and failed to rouse you from your bed. You'd remained silent through the creak of the door, the soft clatter of the bowl and spoon being placed on your nightstand, her soft breathes of disappointment, and the click of the latch as she left again. You even held your breathe, so immersed in listening to all her little noises that you forgot about the air you needed to live.
When your mother returned to your room later that day, though it felt like seconds for you, she ripped the blankets from your body and blinked down at you tearfully. "You didn't eat." she stated simply, gesturing to the still full bowl of soup that was now ice cold.
You blinked back, though the tears in your eyes were due to the sudden burn of being open rather than emotion. The numbness had creeped in at some point during the day, and you couldn't feel a thing aside from empty. She waited there for a long, pregnant moment for you to respond, but you had no words.
What were you meant to say? You could hear your sister's voice scolding you for ignoring her, but you just couldn't think of the right thing to say anymore. "Get up, (Y/N). Dinner is getting cold and you're going to eat with us, even if I have to drag you out of this bed myself." your mother finally demanded.
Weakly, you clambered out of your bed and followed her downstairs. She tried to hide it, probably for your sake, but you could see the pleased smile on her face as she finally got you out of your bed. You wondered what it felt like to smile anymore. Could you smile anymore? You'd tried a few times, but it always felt awkward and forced and never looked quite right.
"She lives!"
You grimaced, your version of a smile, at your father's bland attempt at humor that earned a warning glare from your mother. Yes, you lived, and that was the problem. You didn't want to. You shouldn't have. It should have been her coming down to dinner to celebrate her birthday, not you trudging to the table to try and ignore the party that should have been taking place.
She would have been nineteen. Would she have liked college? Would she have found a cute college boy to date, maybe have brought him home to meet the family on her birthday? Your mother made her favorite food, a family recipe, and you pretended you didn't notice.
It didn't taste as good without her around to gush over it in anticipation. You'd never been much of a fan in the first place, but as a little sister it was your duty to love everything your big sister did. Food included, and you'd eagerly sucked down that casserole for years and claimed it was your favorite too.
"I'll be right back, don't go anywhere!" your mother announced, wiping her hands on a napkin as you choked down the last pea on your plate.
When she returned a few moments later with a large chocolate cake in her hands, a cold sweat blossomed over your body and you stiffened. "What's that?" you demanded, staring wide eyed at the all-too-familiar cake incredulously.
It was a rhetorical question. You knew exactly what it was, but you were horrified to see it. She'd made her famous chocolate cake, the same cake she'd made every year for your sister's birthday because, like the casserole, it too was her favorite.
Was this some kind of sick joke? Why did she make a cake? Your sister was gone, and there was nothing to celebrate. If anything you wished to still be hidden away under your blankets, moping and wishing for peace. Yet, here was your mother, placing the cake down on the table with a sheepish smile and watery eyes.
She stared at the cake, avoiding your eyes as she sniffed, "I just... I thought that maybe this would make it feel like she's still here. I just wanted a little bit of her to make the day a little less sad."
"She's not here, Mom." you snapped, "She's not here, and this isn't going to change that."
With a loud screech from your chair that scraped across the floor, you bolted away from the table and back to your room. God, why are you being so horrible? She's just trying her best, you don't have to be so hard on her... Your sister's voice echoed in your mind, rattling around your skull so hard you swore you could feel your teeth chatter.
She was right, and you knew it. You knew you were being unfair, cruel even, but you couldn't help it. You couldn't help the uncontrollable guilt that seeing all your sister's favorite foods brought creeping back over you. You couldn't help the bile that steadily rose up your throat at the thought of her, the sight of her ever-present empty chair.
You couldn't help any of it. The anger and guilt was too much to bear, especially as you heard your mother's choked sob echo from the dining room all the way to your bedroom. You'd done that. You'd made her cry with your selfish contempt. You were truly the worst.
Collapsing back onto your bed and burying yourself under your blankets, you smothered yourself with your pillow until it felt like your lungs were going to explode. The tears never came, though you wished for them desperately. You felt like crying, you wanted to cry, but you couldn't. You were all cried out once more.
A loud knock on your window startled you awake, and you blinked in surprise at the pitch darkness of your room. You couldn't remember falling asleep, but that was fairly typical anymore. When you don't dream, there's never really much to differentiate between wake and rest. It was always just like blinking your eyes--one moment it was one day, and the next it was another.
Time moved pretty strangely ever since the incident, you'd discovered. Sleep made time seem longer, more impactful, and without it the days all blurred together. Another knock caught your attention, followed by another, before there was a steady rapping at the glass pane that made you furrow your eyebrows.
You clicked the power button on your phone only to huff when you remembered you'd shut it off, and turned to face the window. A shadow passed before it and your heart stuttered frightfully. Another knock, another shadow, and you were surprised you hadn't peed your pants in fear. There was someone out there.
A head popped up over the windowsill, falling heavily against the glass with a loud bang that made you jump. "What the--Peter?" you gasped, your eyes slowly adjusting to the dim lighting until you could make out the familiar suit of Spiderman.
What the hell was Peter doing at your window, and why was he still dressed up in his stupid costume? Begrudgingly, yet secretly curious, you creeped out of your bed and opened the window with furrowed eyebrows. "Peter, what are you doing here?" you whispered, but he didn't respond.
Well, he didn't respond with words. He groaned, a strange gargled noise like he was trying to talk through a mouthful of water, and his head lolled to the side weakly. Prodding his shoulder, he nearly tumbled to the ground until you caught him awkwardly and strained to keep him upright. "P-please, help." he gasped.
Your heart was racing, and your mind was moving nearly as fast with a million questions. How the hell did Peter know where you lived? Why was he at your window? What was wrong with him? Why did he think you were the person to help him? Why, what, why, how, all the questions remained unanswered.
It was a great struggle to drag Peter through your window, a task that was done without much help from the surprisingly heavy boy who leaned nearly all of his weight onto you. You did it, though, and bit back a scream when you pulled your hands away to find them covered in blood. As you stared at the dark, red stains on your flesh, the smell of it hit you and your head was spinning.
Blood, and a lot of it. Immediately your mind brought you back to that fateful day, images of your sister's lifeless form flashing before your eyes and blurring the world around you. Your breathing grew shallower, and just as the tunnel vision started to encroach, Peter garbled, "Please, (Y/N), you need to help me."
He weakly slapped at his chest until his suit deflated like a balloon, peeling away from his body like a loose tarp that was easily pulled away from his skin. "Oh, my god!" you wailed. His body was riddled with cuts, scrapes, and bruises galore. You wondered if any of his skin remained unbroken, because everything was black, blue, and red.
For the first time in what felt like forever, your fight or flight switched gears to fight. You weren't entirely sure why, because you were crying and holding back vomit like your life depended on it, but you raced around your room to gather anything you could to staunch the bleeding. Every breathe you took overwhelmed you with the smell of blood, that familiar metallic scent of iron or pennies, but you couldn't breathe through your mouth.
If you opened your mouth, you were surely going to lose all the food you'd eaten for dinner. All you could think of was your sister. You thought of what she would have done, and you knew that you were making the right choice in helping him. She would never have left him to fend for himself. Most of all, though, you thought of your sister and how you hadn't stopped her from dying, and you couldn't do that again.
You couldn't let another person die as a result of your actions. You couldn't, and you wouldn't. So, you worked hard and fast through all your crying to patch Peter up as best as you could. Nothing needed stitches as far as you could tell, but nearly every inch of his skin was broken with some form of scrape, scratch, or cut.
It was messy, and by the time you finished you were pretty sure you had more of Peter's blood on your skin and clothes than he had on himself. He was asleep, or unconscious, you weren't entirely sure. What you were sure of, though, was that the sun was rising and he needed to leave. You needed him to get out, both for the sake of your mentality and your parents'.
So, you jabbed your fingers into his shoulder and hissed, "Wake up!"
He awoke frantically, his eyes snapping open and his body lurching upright as he looked around in a panic. "Get away--(Y/N)? What... What am I doing here? Where am I?" he stammered, slumping back onto the floor with a wince as he continued to scan his surroundings in confusion.
"You're in my bedroom, Parker, and I don't know why. You showed up covered in blood and begging for help." you grumbled in annoyance. "You need to go. It's almost morning."
He blinked in surprise, glancing out your window to see the early hints of dawn on the horizon. "I, uh, I'm... I'm sorry. I don't remember coming here." he mumbled, "Woah, did I hurt you? Oh my God, I hurt you, I'm so--"
"This is your blood, Peter." you growled, cutting off his frenzied rambling as he finally caught sight of the red stains all over your body. "Get out."
He stared at you with parted lips, eyes wide with panic and apprehension. "Are you crying?" he finally asked, his voice timid.
It took you a moment to realize that, yes, you were in fact crying. You hadn't realized that the tears were still flowing from your eyes, but as you did the adrenaline wore off and you choked out through a sob, "Get out! Get out of here, Peter!"
Without the adrenaline pumping through your veins to keep you grounded, the emotion of the entire situation caught up to you. All the fear, anguish, guilt, and anxiety--it all washed over you in an instant and you were losing it. But, you were also angry. You were angry with Peter for putting you in that position.
You were angry that he'd show up, barely alive and begging for your help, when he knew somewhat of what you'd been through. He knew, at the very least, that your sister's death was on your hands, and he put you in a position to put another name on that list. Most of all, though, you were angry that already all of your worst fears were thrown in your face.
Peter wasn't your friend, but some part of you wanted him to be, and already you were faced with the prospect of him dying and you being helpless to stop it. Why was the universe so cruel to you? Were you cursed? It was all a sick, twisted joke, and you wanted no part of it.
"(Y/N), what's wrong--"
You cried, "Just, please, go. I'll see you at school, okay? Just go!"
And, after a moment of hesitation, he went. He climbed out of your window from where he watched you for another minute longer, clearly unwilling to leave you alone in such a state. Peter watched wordlessly as you fumbled to close and latch the window, until you shut the curtains and shut him out again.
Peter Parker: i'm so sorry
Peter Parker: please be okay
Peter Parker: i better see you at school tomorrow or i'm coming back to check on you
Peter Parker: or today i guess
SERIES TAGLIST {ask to be added}:
@msmimimerton @zendayasfwb
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etherealletters · 3 days ago
Pool Daze | Bucky Barnes
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Summary: a late night swim takes an unexpected turn.
Warnings: none! Just fluff and Bucky and the reader being thirsty.
A/N: First imagine yayyy!!! If you have any requests send them in :)
Bucky Barnes was driving you insane.
And not in the way he usually did. Usually, you two were exchanging biting remarks, thinly veiled insults, and harsh glares. It started when you had first shut down one of his suggestions for a mission and then led to a not so friendly competition where you had both tried to not so subtly one up each other. Whether it was training, fighting, or cooking you two tried to do it faster and better.
You weren’t quite sure how to explain your strange dynamic with him.
And when Tony suggested a weekend getaway at his beach house, you and the rest of the team were quick to say yes. The glittering ocean and breezy nights were a much needed relaxation.
You were stretched out on a lawn chair next to Natasha while some of the guys splashed in the pool or were drinking at the poolside bar and for what felt like the 100th time that day your eyes landed on Bucky. Droplets of water dusted his shoulders and you tried not to let your eyes wander along his abs. He was talking to Sam, with a lazy grin. A stark contrast from how he usually was. Had he always been this hot?
"You should just talk to him," Nat, murmured, a cheeky grin on her face.
You scoffed but felt your cheeks heat. You were wearing sunglasses. How could she even tell?
"I'm not- I wasn't-" you stammered before huffing as she laughed. You glanced back at Bucky and you could've sworn his eyes were on you for the briefest second.
“I’m just saying he’s been staring too,” she shrugged.
Bucky was screwed. He nodded along to what Sam was saying. Something about this girl he was seeing. He tried to pay attention he really did but his eyes kept landing on you. How could he not?
Hair messily piled atop your head, baby blue bikini, and a moody pout. Yeah, he wasn’t staring. Your skin seemed to glow under the sun, as he noticed the way you laughed with ease with Natasha.
His attention slowly drifted back to Sam as he tried not to focus on the curve of your hips or the tilt of your voice or the expanse of your skin under the sun. Yeah, he was definitely screwed.
You emerged from the water with a gasp. It was the middle of the night and after hours of tossing and turning you had decided to tip toe back down to the pool and slip into the water quietly.
The air was still hot and thick with summer but the chill temperature of the water was pleasant against your skin.
You savored it, eyes closed as you submerged under the water again. It was something you had done since you were a child. Head slipping beneath the surface as you waited to see how long you could stay under for.
When you broke through the surface a voice called out, “Having fun?” Your eyes shot up to see a smirking Bucky standing at the edge of the pool.
“Yeah. You should try it sometime,”
At this he laughed and folded his arms over his chest, water reflecting off his blue eyes. You swam to the ledge of the pool where he was standing and looked up at him.
“I have plenty fun,” he said as you grinned, looking up at him as a mischievous thought planted itself.
“I’m getting cold anyways.” You frowned and reached a hand out to him. “Pull me up?” You questioned knowing damn well you could have just as easily gotten out on your own.
He rolled his eyes but extended his hand nonetheless as you tried to bite back the smile on your lips, his hand gripping yours.
You pulled him in and ducked out of the way as he fell in the water. You laughed as you waited for him to come up to the surface but he didn’t.
You furrowed a brow and looked down to make sure he wasn’t actually drowning. You were too slow to react as his hand gripped your ankle and pulled you under.
You shrieked as he pulled you and you pushed away from him, laughing. You both rose up to the water as you swam to the shallow end to stand. And to your surprise, he was laughing too.
“Your clothes are soaked,” you laughed reaching for the sleeve of his shirt without thinking. His metal hand was gripping your waist, thumb rubbing circles against your exposed skin. “I don’t mind,” he smiled back at you as it suddenly occurred to you just how close he was.
You two stayed like that, silent and close, you weren’t sure how long you did but the water had drilled and the only noises were the sounds of your quiet breaths.
Thinking about what Natasha said earlier you flushed. Had he really been looking at you too?
Without thinking you leaned forward, slowly giving him enough time to pull away. You pressed you lips against his, waiting for him to pull back.
He didn’t.
Instead his arm tightened the grip on your waist while his other hand cupped your jaw. He deepened the kiss and you reached your hand up to go through his hair.
By the time you pull back for air, your chest is heaving against his. You smile up at him, a little breathless, a little carefree. He’s grinning down at you before pressing his mouth against your forehead.
“Let me take you out sometime, yeah?”
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hey-marlie · 3 days ago
IF YOU NEED ME -- Ch. 3: Words
SUMMARY: cindy says ‘i’m here and ready to party,’ y/n literally cannot catch a break, and we would all die for jessica drew don’t @ me
Word Count: 18.6k
Warnings: old faces, new faces, not as much swearing as usual, mentions of an IV if that’s an ‘oof’ for you
series masterlist
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“There are words that can make you happy. And there’s words that can make you sad. And sometimes there’s words that can cause you confusion. And there’s a few words sometimes regret. Oh there’s three words that I long to hear. Especially if they’re true. If you mean it, let me hear you say it (I love you). Right now, right now (I love you). Yes, I do. (You know I do). There’s words that can just soothe all aches and pains. And there’s words that can make the teardrops fall like rain. And there’s a little words that could keep an army from goin’ to war. But these words oh I’ve never ever heard before.” - Solomon Burke
* * *
Peter truly had thought of everything when he opened the large closet to your new bedroom and pulled out a change of clothes. He handed you your leggings, your favorite white crop, and one of his large flannels before pushing your sneakers out from the back without a second thought.
Your look of serious confusion caused him to chuckle, "What?"
"When did you steal my leggings?"
"I was nervous you'd notice they were missing," he laughed, "I grabbed them the night before our anniversary. Figured we'd stay the night here and then in the morning we could go down to the park, but that's obviously not going to happen now."
"They aren't exactly work clothes," you mused, looking at some of your favorite lounging clothes in your arms.
Peter scoffed and rolled his eyes, "I don't think Tony is going to mind. Here," Peter handed you a towel that was hanging and kissed your forehead, "Let's just shower quickly and we can be on our way."
"But Cindy's waiting downstairs," you clutched your clothes to your chest, "It would be rude to make her wait."
"We smell like sex."
"You're right. She can wait," you said quickly before darting into the large bathroom.
Peter jogged to the door and called downstairs, "We're going to shower quickly and we'll be right down!"
"I'm eating this cake!" Cindy called back, to which Peter smirked.
"You have my shampoo," you cooed softly as Peter stripped quickly and followed you into the gorgeous rainfall shower. He laughed, noticing you standing there naked and pouting like a child holding your favorite shampoo.
"You're not going to believe this, peaches, but I do pay attention to every little detail of your life," Peter stepped under the water and let the water fall over his face, "Plus, I thought it would be nice to smell like you for a bit."
The shower was quick and felt nice and refreshing, and as you brushed your teeth Peter dried your hair as best he could before the two of you were scrambling back down the stairs where Cindy was waiting in the kitchen.
"I think the wig is stupid and ridiculous," Peter said, pulling her into a hug.
Cindy rolled her eyes but allowed Peter to twirl her around in a circle before he put her back down. You were doing your best to get the last of the knots out of your hair as you reached for your jean jacket, and that's when Cindy's eyes landed on you.
"It's really nice to finally meet you," Cindy walked over and offered her hand, "P's talked a lot about you."
"She's a busy woman," Peter noted, "Always running off to change someone's life."
You scoffed, "I was running off to class, which wasn't the most life-changing."
Cindy's hand was nice and warm, the same slightly warmer temperature that Peter's skin ran, and you felt your cheeks burn at the thought. She was taller than you and up close for the first time you noticed just how flawless she truly was.
Her eyes were a warm brown that caught the light as she smiled. "Well, regardless, it's nice to finally meet."
"It's really nice to meet you too, Cindy," you told her as warmly as you could, "It's an honor to meet you, honestly. I've also heard tons about you from everyone."
"Yeah she's a real saint," Peter snorted, pouring the champagne into the tumbler in his bag just as he said he was going to.
"You're not actually going to drink that at work, are you?" you asked, raising an accusatory eyebrow.
"No," Peter laughed, "I'm just going to slowly add it to Harley's thermos whenever he's not looking and see how drunk I can get him throughout the day."
"Genius," Cindy beamed as you gapped at him.
"You can't do that," you reminded him while Peter took your hand and the two of you headed to the door with Cindy in tow. "You're kidding ... right?"
"Of course I'm kidding, peaches," he laughed, "I mean, I'd really love to and maybe I would have at one point, but I know how to be professional."
"Sounds like you're being boring," Cindy mused, putting on her sunglasses.
"I think the pink hair actually looks nice," you told her, noticing how it caught in the light, "That wig is really real looking."
"Thanks, I swiped it from MJ," Cindy tossed some of it over her shoulder, "I never would have thought she and Harley would start dating."
"They bonded over their mutual hatred," Peter grumbled.
"Hatred for...?" Cindy asked.
"Peter," you smirked, watching as Peter grumbled under his breath.
It was a crisp fall day as the three of you walked back towards Stark Industries. Cindy whined about why you all couldn't just stop there so she could get into her lab and you mentioned that you'd be happy to help her do so, but Peter reminded you that he had to drop off the new papers for May first thing or else she'd be mad.
"You know how she gets about this stuff," Peter reminded you, "College is the one thing she's still paying for that she feels responsible for, so she takes it seriously and wants all new files and bills to her the second I get them."
"You're going to pay her back for college once you graduate, aren't you?" you said, gripping his arm as you crossed the street.
"It's already put aside," Peter nodded, "I'll just drop it into her account and she'll be none the wiser."
"You also thought she'd be none the wiser when we snuck out for Flash's pool party junior year," Cindy reminded him, "And how did that go?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Peter bit his lip.
"How did it go?" you asked, egging Cindy on.
"Well, first we thought we were in the clear, and then halfway through the party May showed up to the party herself and literally dragged Peter by the ear back towards the car. But not before she decided that pushing him into the pool would probably be a good punishment in front of all our classmates."
"Oh my God," you stifled your laughter as Peter's jaw set in an annoyed fashion, "And what did you do?" you asked her.
"I jumped in after him," Cindy sighed, "I felt bad for him."
As you rounded the corner to approach FEAST, you pulled your hand from Peter's. "I'll take Cindy to get some coffee while you talk to May," you told him.
"I'll meet you there," he told you before bending down to give you a kiss.
Last-minute without even thinking about it, you subconsciously ducked your head sideways so his lips met your cheek. Your eyes fluttered to Cindy's for a moment and you noticed her watching closely as you cleared your throat and stepped back from him, adjusting your jacket.
Peter looked a bit confused for a moment but he dropped it, giving the two of you a small wave before heading into FEAST.
"Right this way," you cleared your throat awkwardly before directing Cindy to next door.
You were about to open the door for her when she stopped, looking up at the awning. "Huh," she whispered, taking a step back to get a better look.
Your palms started to sweat and you felt your heart drop in your chest. With everything going on, you'd completely forgotten about Moonshine and the implications behind it.
"Shit. Right ... um -"
"Is that my handwriting?" Cindy asked, pointing up to 'Moonshine Café' in bold lettering over the shop.
"Okay please don't freak out," you held your hands up in defense, "So I started the charitable café at Stark Industries as my first project and I named it Stark Roast because, you know, Stark's name and stuff. But when he wanted to expand he didn't want another Stark Roast because he doesn't really like the name? And I already had the one roast named after your charitable organization at that café and Peter was missing you and so I thought that naming the place 'Moonshine' might be a funny sort of pun while also, you know, paying homage to you and so -"
"Whoa whoa you're talking so fast," Cindy cut you off, "You named a place after me?"
"There's a photo of you and all your friends inside," you admitted, "A-And I named a charitable organization after you at Stark Roast that puts money towards stopping animal testing because Peter said you liked animals and wanted to be a vet. So ... I ... am now realizing how creepy it all feels? But you were dead so ..."
Cindy looked insanely confused and you were frozen in your spot, unsure of what to say. You felt the need to explain yourself further, but you weren't sure just how much Cindy was ready to hear.
"I don't understand," she finally stated, "You don't even know me."
"But a lot of people did, and they missed you," you whispered, "And a lot of what charity is, is bringing warmth and a positive influence into people's lives. You were that for a lot of people before you were taken from them, so I wanted to do my part to remind everyone of ... you."
"Huh," Cindy muttered.
"And a bit of guilt," you admitted, feeling your voice waver as the gummy tears were starting to stick to your throat, "Since I'm dating Peter and you were dating Peter and he still missed you a lot."
"Oh," Cindy raised her eyebrows, "Well, that's stupid."
"Oh. Okay."
"No, no. Not like that," Cindy waved her hand out quickly before rubbing her temples, "Just that, well, like you said - I was dead. So why shouldn't Peter start looking for someone new."
"Ah," you cleared your throat while nodding slowly, "If it makes this whole situation better, he didn't start looking for someone new. For years, actually. And then when he started to feel something for me he actually pushed it away and didn't talk to me for a while, ruining our friendship. So ... it took him a very, very long time to get over you."
"I see," Cindy whispered.
"In fact sometimes I wonder if he even is over you," you laughed uncomfortably, "How stupid of me. Anyways! Coffee."
You finally opened the door and ushered Cindy inside, cursing yourself out internally for saying such ridiculous and personal things. Usually, your friends just let you ramble until you got everything out, but Cindy cutting you off had left so many unsaid thoughts scrambled in your head.
But you did your best to shake them all off as you started to be greeted by some of the workers.
"Y/N!" Mabel, one of the baristas you'd first hired, waved to you as you entered, "We haven't seen you for a few days."
"I was super busy," you sighed while Mabel handed you your usual work files, "How have things been?"
"Great," she smiled, "And we're still planning that open mic night for Friday, right?"
"I think it should be a weekly thing for sure," you agreed.
"Great. I'll get working on your iced chai now. You still like it dirty?"
"The dirtier the better," you chuckled, looking over some of the logs.
"And is Peter around? He's usually barely an arm's length from you. In fact, I'm pretty sure last time his hand was in your back pocket the entire time," Mabel smirked, watching as you became flustered.
"Oh!" you laughed nervously, "Yes, hilarious," you dared a quick glance to Cindy to see she was watching you with an unreadable expression, "He's ... well, he might be here. Soon."
"And he still only drinks black coffee to prove a point?"
"If you put two sugars in it, he wouldn't complain," you said feebly, "Thanks, Mabel."
"Duh," Mabel smiled brightly, "And for your friend?"
Mabel turned to Cindy and Cindy startled slightly at being spoken to. Even though Cindy had lived in this world for most of her life, and you knew that she hadn't been as restrained as Jessica, you'd forgotten that Cindy was just as much the isolated victim having been locked away for so many years.
"Oh uh ... I haven't had coffee in a while," Cindy mused, "What do you recommend?"
She turned to you and you opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Cindy was asking your opinion? And she seemed serious about it? You couldn't tell if she was patronizing you, but you startled to think of something quickly.
"She'll have a lavender hot milk tea," you told Mabel quickly, "And we'll be at my table."
You grasped Cindy's arm softly before pulling her in the direction of your work table. She sat down across from you and sat back, crossing her arms, "How did you know I like lavender?"
You shrugged and cleared your throat before mumbling, "Peter drinks lavender boba tea whenever he misses you, and he'll go to the boba shop the two of you loved every year on your birthday. I deduced it wasn't a lavender craving that Peter had considering he pouts like a child at all sweet foods and likes things to be stupidly bland and boring, so I figured you were the one who had a thing for lavender."
"So you're a detective?"
"I'm an observant girlfriend with a boyfriend who has gone through many traumas in his life," you said, looking up at her, "And so I need to be aware of his tendencies so I can adequately care for him when he needs me."
Cindy nodded slowly, "Gotcha."
You put down your work and sighed, clasping your hands together in front of you on the table as you felt an inner flame start to boil within your body. Cindy looked back at you expectantly and you lifted your chin up a bit higher.
"I understand that you must hate me," you started off, "And you have to know that had the circumstances been different and your life not been taken from you in such an awful and unfair way, I'm sure you and Peter would be very happy together. But the circumstances led to the two of you having to work through years of loneliness and I was there to see the deepest loneliness of Peter's life right before he almost went over the edge. Now, if you still have feelings for Peter -"
"I'm always going to have feelings for Peter," Cindy cut you off, "Not because I want to, or because I want to be with him. But because we're two halves of a very sticky and webbed coin that connects us in ways normal humans will never understand."
"So ... where does that leave us?" you asked pointedly, "Because you mean a lot to Peter and I don't want to get in the way of the two of you being in one another's lives again."
Mabel came over and placed your drinks down, smiling at the two of you as if she didn't sense the awkward tension. You waited until she was gone before continuing.
"But I love Peter," you said softly, "I love him so much that sometimes I feel like there's a whole star inside of me that might just burst. It's like I've stuffed a whole galaxy inside my chest filled with my emotions for him and my ribs are barely keeping it together."
You sniffled as you did your best to keep the tears at bay, but something deep inside of you was coming alive and you felt powerful, even in the face of the gorgeous woman you'd almost allowed to take your boyfriend.
"I'll admit the second you returned I thought things were over. I thought that Peter would leave me immediately and that that would be it. But he bought us a house and he's talking about the future and he gave me this -"
You pulled Ben's ring from under your shirt on the chain to show Cindy and you immediately saw recognition in her eyes.
"That's Ben's ring," she gasped, standing up and leaning over the table to grasp it between her long and nimble fingers, "The one that May wears. Peter gave this to you?"
"Well, he said that May hasn't worn it in a while so my guess is -"
"No, May wears this every day," Cindy cut you off again, "All the time I've known her she's worn it. I've never seen her without it."
"Well, I don't mean to be rude, but you've been gone for a while and -"
"She was wearing it when she bent over to give me a hug at the Night Clinic when I got back," Cindy raised an eyebrow, "Do you know what this ring is?"
"A class right. Peter told me."
"It's the promise ring that Ben proposed to May with before he had enough money to pay for a real engagement ring," Cindy told you quietly, "It's a proposal ring."
You flushed immediately and sputtered as you pulled the ring back from Cindy's grasp and tucked it back in your shirt, "No," you laughed nervously, waving her off, "It's not a proposal ring."
Cindy placed her hands together and rested them over her lips before pointing at you, "So let me get this straight. Peter bought you - bought you - a house. Like, a large ass expensive one. And he gave you a very, very special ring that he would have had to have a conversation with his aunt about to get it to give it to you. And ... what exactly could that mean to you, honey?"
"Honey is patronizing and I don't like it," you whispered, slinking back into your seat.
Cindy rolled her eyes, "Alright, Y/N, I'll level with you. I do love Peter, but not the way you do. And I'll admit that when I got here I thought being with Peter again would be nice. I mean, he's so tall now and those abs ... I would climb him like a tree."
"But you're together. And I respect that. And I see that it's taken Peter quite a long time to open himself up to have someone like you in his life. And the fact that you're constantly looking out for him without him having to ask or expect anything in return - I respect that."
"I give you my blessing."
You reacted before you meant to as you threw your head back and laughed. Cindy seemed startled by your reaction as she grasped her drink but didn't drink it.
"Sorry," you calmed yourself, "I appreciate that Cindy, I really do, but I don't ... Peter and I don't need your blessing. You know that, right?"
Cindy shrugged, "Just felt like the right thing to say."
She took a sip of her drink and moaned, looking down at it, "Fuck, this is damn good."
"I told you," you took a sip of your own drink, "Best in the city."
"Ladies," Peter appeared and slid into the booth next to you, throwing his arm around your shoulders and kissing your cheek, "May says hi," he told you quietly, "And she was very persistent that we come over next weekend for dinner."
'I wonder why' Cindy mouthed at you, pointing to her ring finger as you glared at her.
"Sounds like fun," you told Peter, "Mabel made you coffee."
"Oh. Nice," Peter grasped the mug in his hand and yawned, "Alright well, Cin, as soon as we're done with our drinks we can now get you into your lab."
"Finally," Cindy rolled her neck around and sighed as it popped, "I'm excited to crack that baby open again. I'm surprised you all kept it the way it was."
"I may have flown through the glass at one point and knocked a few things over," you mumbled, "... sorry."
"Well, did you throw yourself?" Cindy asked.
"No. I was thrown."
"Then apology accepted."
You smiled hesitantly as Peter rested his hand on the back of your neck and started massaging. He did this often whenever he could sense that your antidote patch was pinching or pulling at your skin, and usually, you didn't have to say anything before he was already doing it.
This time, however, you hadn't even noticed the discomfort until Peter started to alleviate it, and you sighed immediately, closing your eyes and slumping against him.
"Thank you," you whispered.
"Is it bothering you a lot?" he asked quietly, "We can talk to Harley about -"
"Please, no. It's really not a big deal," you placed your hand over his, "It's not something to worry about."
"Peter doesn't think so," Cindy pipped up, "In fact, I can sense that he's kicking into overdrive already planning something out in his head."
"Cin!" Peter glared as your eyes widened.
"Oh," you cleared your throat, "Well that's handy information."
"I can't help it," Cindy whispered, "Sorry."
"So you two can like ... read each other's thoughts?" you asked, gesturing between the two spidey superheroes, "How exactly does that work?"
"It's difficult to explain," Cindy clutched her drink to her chest, "It's not so much reading the other person's mind, but I can pick up on how Peter's feeling and the emotions that he's feeling. They're mostly just waves of emotions, but over the years I was able to start deciphering what the different feelings meant. Right now, for instance -"
"Cindy," Peter whispered.
"- Peter's feeling scared and helpless," Cindy continued. Her eyes were a little glazed over and she was staring at Peter intently without looking away, "You say that you're fine and that makes Peter feel scared, and when you said it wasn't a big deal, he then felt helpless. There's also a twinge of anger in there, but it's difficult to say who that's directed at because I don't know the backstory or have a single clue what the two of you are talking about, but -"
"That's enough," Peter cut her off, "Hey," he snapped his fingers in front of Cindy's face and she startled, blinking a bit before setting her drink down and clearing her throat.
"I-I'm sorry," she whispered, "It's been so long having only my own emotions inside me, you know? I grew up with yours too and then for so long ... I was alone."
Peter tensed and he felt his head spinning a bit as Cindy's emotions started to trickle into his system. She was scared, anxious, and there was a deep feeling of loss settling in his chest that made him feel cold. His skin crawled from the ever-gapping and expanding chill and he was about to get lost in Cindy's despair had you not gotten up and moved past him to sit down next to Cindy.
"Cindy," you whispered, taking her hand, "Do you need to talk to someone about what happened? Peter's been seeing a really lovely therapist and I've visited her as well in the past to deal with my own trauma. Has anyone contacted your parents to tell them -"
"No!" Cindy jerked away from your touch as you sat up straight, not wanting to crowd her space, "Sorry," she whispered, noticing she'd startled you.
Cindy's eyes wavered from you to Peter as she said, "My parents can't know. They can't."
"They've missed you so much. I'm sure they'd want to know that you're alive and -"
"I'm dead to them," Cindy said sternly, "That's the end of the story. I died years ago and they can't know that I'm here. I'm not the same person anymore, and they wouldn't know their daughter or want to call me as such once they know the things I've done to stay alive."
"None of that is your fault," you said sternly, "You did what you had to do so you could come home. And now that you're home you deserve to be happy."
Cindy looked down at your hand gripping hers tightly before she looked over at Peter, "I can see why you like her so much."
"She tends to know the right things to say," Peter mumbled before taking a sip of his coffee, "Cin, you've got to let your parents know you're alive."
"I'm not alive," she whispered, "The Cindy Moon who left this earth years ago no longer exists."
She stood and cleared her throat, adjusting her shirt, "That's been made abundantly clear to me."
Cindy started to walk out and Peter stood quickly. He started to make his way out of the café before stopping and turning to you, "I don't know what to do in this situation," he whispered, looking lost.
"You go after her," you told him, taking his coffee from his hand and pushing him towards the door.
Even though you wanted to tell him to stay and that the two of you could spend the morning together before work, you knew that Cindy's life was far more unbalanced than yours and you had no right to be selfish. So you sat down, took a breath, and started your work as Mabel brought you another chai.
Peter, on the other hand, had forgotten how fast Cindy could run. She was dodging people left and right through the streets as Peter did his best to keep up, and finally, just as he almost toppled over a group of kids on some sort of field trip, he was able to grasp Cindy by the arm and yank her into an alley.
"Get off me!" Cindy screamed, hitting at Peter's chest and arms as he tried to steady her.
"Cindy, calm down," he spoke as soothingly as he could. He wasn't good in these situations - helping people was your thing - but Cindy had made it abundantly clear that your help was not what she wanted.
Cindy's struggles caused her wig to fall off and knock to the ground as her real locks tumbled down to her shoulders. Peter grasped her face and held it in his hands as she finally looked up at him. Her eyes were red and she was flushed, breathing heavily, and Peter could sense the panic radiating off of her.
"You're safe here," he whispered, "No one is going to hurt you and no one here wants to. You're home."
"This isn't my home!" Cindy sobbed, "Nothing's the same! Y-You ... You're - well, you don't love me anymore and there's some sweet little miss perfect walking around on your arm! And I've killed people so my parents can't know I'm alive and I'm supposed to keep it together when the one person who I was hoping would fix all my problems is fucking someone else!"
Cindy's screams only escalated as Peter held her a bit tighter, pulled her face into his chest, and wrapped his arms around her in his unbreakable grasp.
"Listen," he demanded, "Listen to my heart. Close your eyes and listen to my heart and sense whether I still love you or not."
Slowly Cindy's anxious pushing of him away started to cease as she gripped his shirt and breathed deeply, trying to even it out. Her forehead nestled into his chest as she clung to him and after a short amount of time, she sniffled.
"Sorry," she whispered, "I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to apologize for," Peter said softly while combing his fingers through her hair.
"I said I was fine," she mumbled, "I lied. I'm not."
"I know."
"You knew I was lying?"
"I can sense everything about you," Peter reminded her, "Of course I knew you were lying. Did I feel a little bit of relief knowing you were still brave enough to hold your head up high? Of course. But you don't have to all the time."
"She's nice," Cindy muttered.
"I know."
"Maybe a little too nice."
"I'm working on that," Peter smirked.
"It's just really hard," Cindy admitted, pulling away from him so Peter could get a good look at her, "I know I said I was okay with it and at the time I really think I actually meant it. But then you opened the door this morning and there she was. There you both were. And that was the future I envisioned for us, right? But then it was all taken from me - from us - and now you're living our life with some other girl."
"She's not another girl, Cindy," Peter reminded her softly, "She's my girlfriend and I love her so much."
"I know you proposed," Cindy scoffed, "I saw the ring."
"Whoa," Peter cleared his throat, "I didn't propose."
Cindy rolled her eyes as she waved him off and started to pace a bit, "It's basically a proposal. That was Ben's proposal ring."
"She doesn't know that."
"I told her," Cindy stated flatly, "When I saw it. I told her."
"You told -" Peter groaned and rubbed his eyes, "Why would you tell her?"
"It's not like I can help it!" Cindy whined back.
"You definitely can help it! This is like debate club all over again!" Peter hissed, "You said you were fine with me pairing up with Liz and then I find out you've been feeding Ned all my secrets about my crush on Liz behind my back."
"That's not what I did!" Cindy gasped, offended, "He started asking questions so I told him! He was your best friend."
"You were my best friend!"
"I see now that we may have had a few misunderstandings when we were younger -"
"Yes, which is odd considering we're two people who can literally feel each other's emotions and motives," Peter grumbled, "Explain how a miscommunication could possibly happen?"
Cindy pouted and crossed her arms, "You're going to start saying I'm selfish again, aren't you?"
"It's like you read my mind," Peter said sarcastically.
Cindy remained quiet and stopped pacing. Peter noticed she was fiddling with her fingers the way she did when she was super stressed and he sighed, rubbing his temple, "I missed you so much," he croaked, "Like you said, I lost a part of me. I was suddenly alone - both on the inside and the outside. I felt ..."
"Hollow?" Cindy whispered.
"Unbearably hollow," Peter agreed, "It was like I was cold and missing a whole section of myself cut off from the world."
"Empty," Cindy agreed, "No longer at full capacity."
"I felt that for years," Peter admitted, "Lonely, bitter, and angry. I manifested my emptiness into anger and then I turned it into distrust. And I hurt a lot of people, but Y/N never made me feel any of those things ... even after I hurt her."
Peter leaned against the side of the alley and shrugged, "She made me realize I was whole, and not just a part of myself the way I felt once you left."
"I didn't leave," Cindy grit her teeth, "I was taken."
"Right. You're right. I'm sorry," Peter put his hands up in defense, "You were gone for five years, Cin. You were dead. I won't apologize for moving on, but I will apologize for not looking for you."
Cindy sniffled and nodded, wrapping her arms around herself, "I didn't expect you to come looking. Part of me hoped that you would feel me, right? Like, like I was still out there and you could still sense me. But I couldn't sense you at all, so I knew that you couldn't feel me anymore. I didn't expect you to come after me, and I know I shouldn't have expected you to wait for me either. It's just going to take some adjusting."
"I can understand that," Peter nodded, "I completely understand that."
"I came back and everything was different," Cindy croaked, "Vision is gone. Thor is gone. The garden is gone at the Compound ... Everything is so ..."
"Different," Peter agreed, "There's no other word for it."
"You still love me though," Cindy whispered, "I can feel it."
"Of course I still love you," Peter gushed, stepping forward and placing his hands on Cindy's face once again, cupping her cheeks in his hands as she looked up at him.
It had been a very, very long time since his body had felt like this. He could remember when it started - when he first started to fall in love with Cindy and the attraction caused his whole body to sizzle like pop rocks. He would get that feeling when he was around you now, only it was slightly different. It wasn't subdued, but it felt more natural and it was the calming kind of love that put a smile on his face and warmth to spread all throughout his body. It wasn't startling and fizzling pop rocks, but more of a hum.
But with Cindy, it had always been a prickling, popping desire that had coursed through his body and made his mouth water, muscles shake, and lips itch to be on hers. And as much as he hated to admit it, he'd felt that way since she'd come back.
He wasn't in love with Cindy anymore, that much was certain, but he was attracted to her and he wasn't sure how to handle that.
"I love you too," Cindy whispered. She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his, "I think I always will."
"I'll always love you too," Peter agreed, "Just differently."
"Differently," Cindy spat bitterly, "Seems to be the tone of my life now."
"It doesn't have to be," Peter pulled away and caught a glimpse of you standing at the end of the alley. "Fuck," he whispered, noticing the discomfort on your face and the work you'd brought with you clutched to your chest.
You hadn't even gone out to find the two of them. You'd simply been walking back to work, and there was a text on Peter's phone that would corroborate that from five minutes ago where you'd told him you'd be at Stark Industries.
But then you'd walked past the alley and heard 'I love you' being exchanged and foreheads touching and you couldn't help yourself but stop. It was such a personal moment and yet you couldn't look away.
"Y/N," Peter whispered, "Hi baby. We were just -"
"Yeah yeah no worries," you cleared your throat and waved it off in a jerky way that looked nothing short of robotic.
"I'm sorry," Cindy sniffled, wiping the tears from her eyes, "Meeting you was ... difficult."
"I'm sorry," you whispered, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"It's not you," Cindy quickly assured you, "I promise."
"O-Okay," you nodded slowly, "Well um, I uh - I have work, so ..."
"Y/N," Peter called after you, jogging to catch up as you turned to look at him, "It wasn't what it looked like -"
"I know," you nodded, "I understand, and it's okay."
"No, it's not okay," he whispered, "Please, I -"
"Cindy just returned from Hell and she's found that the one person who she used to turn to in her time of need is sleeping with someone else. I can understand how difficult that must be for her and I understand that there will be a little bit of time as she adjusts to this new world. It's her world, but it's all new."
"That doesn't excuse my actions. I was only trying to be a good friend," Peter promised.
"You love all your friends, Peter," you told him, reaching out and taking his hand, "It's no secret, no matter how hard you try to hide it. I know you love them all so, so much. And Cindy is no exception."
Your heart was still aching, and the visual was something you would deal with for longer than you cared to admit, but Peter bought a house for the two of you to live in and he gave you a piece of his past - Uncle Ben's ring - that stood for a future he planned to share with you. Cindy just happened to be a part of that future now.
"You should try to convince her about her parents," you whispered, nodding encouragingly to him, "If she's here to stay - as she should be - then reaching out and reconnecting is the best way to go."
"You're amazing and perfect and endlessly sexy," Peter gushed, "I don't deserve you."
Peter's compliments seemed to make you uncomfortable as you pulled your hand from his and chuckled lightly. "That's very unlikely, Peter Parker, but I appreciate your opinion."
"May was really serious about that dinner, so we should probably schedule it soon ..." Peter winced.
"I'll talk to her and set a date and then put it into your schedule," you said, pulling out your phone to check that your calenders were still connected. You and Peter had merged your calenders months ago, and there was no reason to doubt that they weren't still linked, but considering the past few day's events, you weirdly felt the need to check.
"Great," Peter went to kiss you but noticed Cindy's gaze and instead cleared his throat and kissed your cheek, "Thanks, peaches."
"Right," you whispered, "See you later then."
Over the next few weeks, you did your best to get used to Cindy's presence. She was never intrusive nor did she ever make you uncomfortable, but she was just always there. She was with MJ when the two of you met up for tea, and she was with Ned when you went to an old scary movie at the cinema over the weekend. And whenever you were at work she was also there - in her lab, in the café, or sitting in what you came to figure was her signature chair in Peter's office.
Harley made her a new suit because, apparently, she'd been using her own webbing to make herself a suit for the past years. And you hated to admit it, but the suit was amazing. The red silk scarf she'd initially used now was a nano-tech mask that covered her nose and down. It connected to a white chested suit with sleek black arms and legs with webbing designs wrapped around it.
She was graceful, impressive, and likable by all, and though you wanted to hate her so badly, you couldn't. You'd watch her train with Peter and Jessica and even though you wished you could be a part of it so badly, you also knew that you were grateful Peter had others who understood him finally. You could listen to his needs and be there for him as much as possible, but you'd never understand Peter the way Cindy and Jessica could.
A month after Cindy and Jessica arrived, Cindy sat down across from you at the café and sighed, slumping back in her seat, "Hey," she huffed.
"Rough day?" you asked, noticing her sweaty complexion.
"I just ran all of Central Park to see if I could still remember it," she sighed, "Some parts I got lost in, but the rest I got pretty well I think."
"You ... ran all of Central Park?" you muttered, "Like, the whole park?"
"Yeah. I was slower than I normally am, which sucks. But considering P keeps bringing all your baking to his lab every day, I think I'm getting fat."
"Oh!" you sat up a bit straighter, "Is there anything you liked in particular?"
"Do not pull that tablet out if you want to keep living," Cindy pointed at you. You quickly tried to put it away pretending as if you hadn't been reaching for it.
"Are you working? Are you done?" Cindy asked, taking another swig from her water bottle, "Want to go for a walk?"
"You said you just went for a run?"
"I'm anxious," Cindy shrugged, "Come on," she stood and slapped your thigh, "There's a really great gyro place a few blocks over that is still there - I checked this morning. We should go have lunch."
"Oh, I'm not done here for another hour -"
"Come on," Cindy slammed your laptop closed, "Or I'll break into your fancy townhouse and destroy your kitchen."
"I believe that," you mumbled before scrambling to catch up to her.
"Is this Bobby's Gyros we're going to?" you asked while falling into stride with Cindy.
"Yeah. You been?"
"Well, I -"
"Y/N!" Bob called as the two of you walked in, "Hi sweetheart! How're ya doin'?"
"Hi Bobby," you leaned over the counter so the older man could kiss you on the cheek, "It's good to see you too."
"Where's that boy of yours? He always leaves a twenty in the tip jar so I like him better," Bob shook his finger at you.
"He's working, Bobby, but I'll make sure he stops by later this evening on his way home from work," you promised, "How's Mary?"
"She's as gorgeous as ever," Bob smiled, "My girlfriend, Mary," he winked to Cindy.
"You've been married for 56 years, Bob," you reminded him.
"She was my girlfriend first," Bob shrugged, "The usual, hon?"
"Yes please," you nodded, "What do you want, Cindy?"
Cindy looked like she'd eaten something sour, but she swallowed whatever it was and turned to Bob so she could place her order. Within five minutes you and Cindy were sitting outside at one of the tiny tables Bob set out on the sidewalk eating in silence.
"How do you do it?" she asked suddenly, causing you to nearly choke on your water.
"Do what?"
"You know everyone. Everyone knows you. And everyone loves you," Cindy eyed you suspiciously, "Everyone liked me just fine, but no one ever knew my usual. Well, other than Mr. Delmar, I guess. But that was just because Peter and I bugged him for so many years."
You chuckled, "I work in charity, so I'm always under the hospitality of someone else until I can figure out how to help them. I started getting to know the businesses in the area so we could do a big Stark Industries summer picnic festival every summer. Local shops can set up their booths and food trucks and it's a huge long weekend where we raise money for the businesses while also building community. We've been doing it for two years now."
"So you know everyone?"
"Not everyone," you smiled, "But it would be nice if I did ... make my job easier."
"You seem to do it just fine enough."
"I'm sorry," you put your food down, "Are you interrogating me?"
"No. You're right. Sorry," Cindy shook her head, "I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to apologize for."
Cindy rolled her eyes, "You're allowed to hate me, you know."
You sat back in your chair and shrugged, "I've tried."
Cindy actually smiled and sat up a bit as you watched her, "Seriously?"
"Of course," you said, "My boyfriend's hot ex comes back and is around all the time and I'm just supposed to be cool with it? Believe me, I've tried to hate you. I've tried to shit talk you to my friends. I've tried to ... God, I don't even know. I can't even wish bad things on you, honestly at this point."
"Sounds like you're obsessed with me," Cindy flipped her hair over her shoulder.
"Yeah maybe I have a type," you grumbled, "Sticky fingers and emotionally disconnected."
"Oh my God was that a joke?" Cindy asked with a short laugh.
"I don't hate you, Cindy. The amount of relief I feel knowing Peter has you back in his life brings me extreme happiness. I was there for him at his darkest and so I know just how far he's come to be where he is today, but seeing him training with you or hanging out with you and all your friends - that's a reprieve from his dark mind I never thought he'd have."
"He's the way he is because of you, you know," Cindy said, picking at her food.
"I can't tell if you mean that in a good way."
"Of course I do," Cindy rolled her eyes, "I turned into a murderous puppet for a very bad guy for almost five years because I lost Peter, so I can't imagine the shit that little punk got up to in my absence."
"He fucked a lot of people," you whispered, wrinkling your nose as Cindy smirked.
"So I've heard."
You took a sip of your drink while Cindy put down her fork and looked up at you, "Okay," she sighed deeply, "I haven't told anyone this but you seem like the right person to tell."
"I thought you hated me."
"I can't," Cindy grit her teeth, "And believe me, I've also tried."
"Cheers," you mumbled, "So what's going on?"
"A few weeks back, when I first saw you and Peter together, it wasn't the first time I've had to see Peter move on without me."
The name Harry Osborn flashed through your mind for a moment, but you weren't sure just exactly how much Peter had told Cindy about his past relationships (or flings, more accurately) so you kept your mouth shut.
You furrowed your eyebrows and sat up, leaning in a bit as Cindy refused to make eye contact. "I don't understand? I thought you and Peter were dating up until you were abducted?"
"Ezekiel's earth was far enough away from this one that the timeline was different," Cindy started fiddling with her fingers as she spoke, "The earth that I was in was five years ahead of this one. I didn't realize it at first because I was always at Sims Tower, more accurately, in the bunker of the tower."
"So when did you find out?"
"After about a year Ezekiel started to trust me more. I think once you get someone to start killing for you, you're theirs, right? So he knew that I couldn't go far without having to implement myself in his deeds. So he let me start going out. I'd go grocery shopping and run errands. Sometimes he'd even let me hang out at coffee shops and read if I was really good."
"That sounds terrible," you whispered, leaning in a bit more.
"The first time he let me out I immediately looked to find Peter, of course," Cindy admitted, "I just thought that even though he would be a different version of the Peter I knew, he'd still be able to help me. Or maybe I could find that earth's version of me and she would know my struggle."
"Did you find her?"
"She'd died a while ago. In middle school, I think," Cindy muttered, "There was a car accident and she didn't survive."
"I'm so sorry."
Cindy shrugged, "I never knew her, so I didn't feel the need to mourn. But I looked up the accident and turns out that she was on her way home from a concert with her best friend Peter Parker. She'd passed away along with Peter's aunt ... May."
"Oh my God," you mumbled, feeling sick.
"So I looked Peter up. He was living in Manhattan near Hell's Kitchen and he was married," Cindy swallowed her discomfort, "I never approached him because I figured if he was once friends with that earth's Cindy Moon then he'd obviously recognize me. And he didn't even have any powers, so there wasn't really much he could do anyway."
"He ... didn't have powers?" you tried to wrap your mind around your Peter without his Spider-Man capabilities, and you thought back to when you'd known Peter before figuring out his identity. Ever since you'd figured it out though, the powers and Peter's personality and livelihood had gone so hand-in-hand that it was difficult for you to differentiate the two.
"Yeah it was creepy," Cindy shuddered, "But he was married and it was five years in the future and I had to watch as he helped his very pregnant wife up the steps of their apartment building after they'd spent the afternoon having a picnic in the park. It was awful."
"Who was he married to?" you asked, wondering if part of Cindy's discomfort with you might be from the fact that she'd known another version of you - a version of you that was married with a child on the way.
The thought flashed through your mind before you could stop it. Peter was so soft and loving to you, so you could only imagine he'd be even more loving and protective of his child. You'd never envisioned yourself as someone who would enjoy pregnancy, but being a mother was something you'd always wanted for your future. And now seeing your sister Aggie with her tiny little newborn and seeing the joy little Trina brought to Aggie and Whit, you understood the unconditional love of the family unit - something you wanted to share with Peter.
And maybe, if you were being selfish and honest with yourself, you liked the idea of yours and Peter's love spanning other worlds. You allowed yourself to get lost for a moment in the idea of you and Peter finding one another on different earths no matter the circumstances.
But then Cindy answered your question.
"That bitch Gwen Stacy," she snapped, "With her little blond bob and perfectly manicured nails."
You choked, "Gwen Stacy?"
"You know her?"
"I hate that bitch," you growled, "She's a conniving slut."
Cindy's eyebrows went up as she smirked, "I'd love to know that backstory at some point."
"How were they even together?" you hissed, suddenly boiling with rage. You knew this was another Peter you'd never meet on a very different earth you'd never step foot on, but for some reason, in that moment you felt cheated on.
"Peter was working as a photojournalist for the Daily Bugle and Gwen worked as a reporter, so they must have met at work," Cindy shrugged, "It was disgusting to watch so I never went back."
"That juice-loving whore," you whispered.
"Easy there," Cindy laughed, "But you can understand why I might have um ... gone off a bit after seeing you and Peter together that first day? It was like I was reliving that abandonment all over again and I just couldn't handle it emotionally yet."
"I always understood," you told her, "I don't blame you."
"Well, I'm sure you're probably sick of seeing me around. I can only imagine what it must be like to always have me there whenever you come to visit your boyfriend. I'm trying to figure out what my next move is so I won't be in everyone's space. Tony keeps saying he'll set me up with an apartment but it just feels wrong."
"You don't have to worry about that," you told her quickly, "I'm glad we had this talk. Yes, it can be frustrating sometimes when I go up to visit Peter and you're there, but mostly because I usually take naps on that couch and I'm not comfortable sleeping in front of people I don't really know."
"Naps are very serious so I can understand your frustration," Cindy nodded seriously.
"I didn't know you were looking for a place to live. And I also feel bad that I didn't even think for a moment where you were living," you admitted.
"I've been staying at the Compound but it's such a bitch to get into the city every day when I want to be at the labs."
"Aren't there labs at the Compound?"
"Not my lab," Cindy reminded you, "Besides, Nat is always up my ass to train and I'm not ready for those 5am training sessions yet."
"I don't think anyone's ever ready for those."
"You're not half bad," Cindy sighed, "I mean, I'm not entirely sure we're friends, but you're chill. I'm glad Peter has you."
"You remind me a bit of someone," you said, thinking of Felicia.
Cindy was a bit colder than Felicia in a brutally honest way. Cindy was just untrusting completely, where Felicia would just go off things as a hunch. Felicia had warmed up to you, and you had a feeling you and Cindy would never get to that point.
But Cindy was still badass, and you appreciated that.
"We should get going," you groaned, reaching for your bag, "I have a meeting with Étienne for the art gallery and then I need to take a fucking nap."
"So when are you going to tell me about the crazy robot chip in your neck?" Cindy asked while you started to walk back to Stark Industries.
"One conversation at a time, Cindy," you told her and watched as she smiled slightly to herself.
That night as you crawled into bed, it was only seconds later that Peter was crawling in through your window to join you. His patrols had started to grow a bit longer since Cindy's return. You would have felt more uneasy, had it not been for Jessica's presence with them. They were still training her and spending their time teaching her all their tricks, so knowing Peter and Cindy weren't spending hours together alone at night was a bit of a comfort. But tonight, Peter was ready for bed seemingly as soon as you were.
"I found a really gorgeous sofa today," he told you excitedly, "It's emerald green and it's velvet and super fancy looking and I think it'll look great for your front office."
"That's great," you yawned, "I'm not sure it's a big enough room for a sofa though. Maybe we can put it in the sitting room?"
Peter typed the code into his arm and his suit started to fall away, revealing his jeans and shirt underneath. "An even better idea," he agreed, "I liked the white cotton curtains you found. They don't block too much light."
"Oh did they arrive?" you asked while letting your hair down and snuggling over as Webs sat down against your stomach.
"Got in this afternoon," Peter confirmed while tripping over himself to get undressed, "We still need to find the headboard you were interested in."
"We have so much time, Peter," you yawned again, "We won't be moving in until after graduation. We have months to put everything together."
"I want it to be perfect," he whispered, crawling up onto your bed and hovering over you as he kissed you softly. He then flopped down next to you and reached out for Webs, who quickly reached one of his paws out to press into Peter's arm.
The two of you softly petted Webs between you as you both relaxed from the long day. Peter's leg pushed out slowly to curl around yours and you lifted your arm up under your head to prop your head up while also reaching out for his head, scratching at the back of his scalp.
"The night after graduation I want to carry you into our new house and it's all finished," Peter whispered, "Our brand new life."
"It's not going to exactly be new," you reminded him, "Just continued."
"Right," he nodded, kissing the inside of your wrist, "Maybe our grad party with our families can be at our place? All our friends' parents and stuff."
"I'm sure they'd love that," you agreed, "Speaking of friends, I had lunch with Cindy today."
"Bob said you stopped by when I went by there for dinner," Peter scooted closer to you, "I didn't know you went with Cindy."
"She means well, lover," you mumbled tiredly, "And I want what's best for her too. She's just been through more than we'll ever understand."
"She's slowly been telling me more," Peter said, "I don't want to push it though."
"I don't want to disappoint you if we aren't friends," you admitted, "I think she's a great person but ... I just don't see it happening."
"Give it time," Peter begged, "She'll start to warm up to you."
"It's not just about that. I just don't think she's comfortable being my friend and honestly as happy as I am that she's here for you and that she and Jessica are in your life, I don't know if I'm super comfortable around her either."
"I'm in your bed every night," Peter said, "You don't have anything to worry about."
"It's not about that," you scoffed, "Don't make this about you. It's about me and Cindy."
"Seems like it would be about me," Peter mumbled cutely.
"Contrary to popular belief, Spider-Man, the world doesn't revolve around you."
"That's what you're for," Peter smiled, "Something for the world to revolve around."
He reached out to rest his hand on your cheek and you pushed him away, rolling your eyes, "Not the world," you chastised him.
"My world," he whispered, looking at you lovingly, "And I know you and Cindy aren't ever going to be buddies, but I also didn't think you'd ever befriend Felicia but you got that stone-cold bitch to like you. Cindy's a great person and a very personable friend. She'll come around once she knows she's safe. She's just stressed because she's convinced Ezekiel is going to come after her."
"How do we know he isn't going to?" you asked, "He's been able to get to this earth before."
"The circumstances for him have changed," Peter reminded you, "Cindy has just always been paranoid. It was one of the things that made her so reckless."
You could tell by Peter's clipped tone that he didn't want to talk about this topic anymore so you remained silent and reached out for him, taking his hand. You didn't want to admit it, but Peter was a bit correct - even though this feeling of insecurity came from Cindy, the root of the issue was your slight distrust in Peter. You felt sick thinking about it but you couldn't get all the images of Peter and Cindy hugging out of your mind. You'd seen them hugging in his office or standing too close together in their labs. They were connected at the hip when they could be together and though you tried to remind yourself that Peter was in your bed every night, just as he'd reminded you, you couldn't help but wonder who was on his mind every night ... especially if Cindy could read it.
The brisk fall came quickly as October came and went, and you found yourself stealing more and more of Peter's sweaters and crewnecks whenever you could. It was a vicious cycle for Peter to wake up in the morning with another article of clothing stolen, but he was used to it and he cherished it. And the fact that soon, once you graduated, you would both share a closet so you wouldn't have to put in a lot of effort to steal his clothes made him infinitely happy.
What didn't make him particularly happy though, was that you were spending all day with Étienne working on the art gallery. Peter trusted you, but he didn't trust Étienne, and watching as the two of you worked together always made his mind a little fuzzy.
"Yo," Tony knocked on his office door and Peter blinked, rubbing his eyes as he came out of his day dream. He'd been zoning off again thinking of the conversation he'd had with Cindy the night before about Ezekiel's reasoning for coming to find her and Jessica, and Peter couldn't seem to get that issue out of his mind.
"What?" Peter yawned, leaning back in his chair and stretching, "I'm busy."
"Clearly," Tony huffed before stepping into his office, "I'm going to cut to the chase, I have to go to Morgan's bake sale or whatever at school and I don't have time to interview a new chemist to fill Randy's position."
"What happened to Randy?"
Tony rolled his eyes, "I sent that memo out over a month ago. Randy retired. We're looking to hire a new biochemist and I have a short list. But our most promising candidate is here and I can't interview him."
"... And you want me to?" Peter raised an eyebrow, "I'm not totally in-tune with the biochemistry department."
"Now's your chance," Tony shrugged, slapping the file down onto Peter's desk, "And if you like him and think he'd make a good fit, just hire him. I haven't been impressed with any of the other candidates I've interviewed."
"Tony," Peter stood and loosened his tie, "We talked about this."
"About what?"
"About you pushing me into hiring," Peter crossed his arms, "I said I wasn't ready."
"And I say you are," Tony clapped loudly and rubbed his hands together, "Remember to ask him where he sees himself in five years and ask him his favorite color."
"Tony, I'm going to kill you."
"And if he asks about paid vacation ... don't answer," Tony said while walking out briskly, "He'll be here in thirty minutes."
"You'll do great, kid!"
"Fuck you!" Peter yelled back after him as Tony jogged down the hall towards the elevator.
Since Peter had taken on more serious work at Stark Industries, he and Tony had been doing their best to always be cordial and work together harmoniously. There was therapy, yelling, harsh words, and some good heart-to-heart moments that had assisted the two in their relationship today, but Peter knew they still had a long way to go.
Tony was always pushing Peter's boundaries, and Peter took his boundaries very seriously.
For the next thirty minutes, Peter read over the file and tried his best to prepare for his first interview. It was just like Tony to spring something on him and just expect that Peter would succeed. To Tony's credit, Peter always did succeed, but Peter hated it nonetheless.
"Your three o'clock his here, Peter," Karen said smoothly, "Shall I let him in?"
"He's not my three o'clock; he's Tony's," Peter muttered before standing and saying, "Let him in."
The first thing Peter noticed was how tall he was. Slender, tall, but sturdy looking, Peter felt a sense of seriousness settle around the room.
"You must be Dr. Connors," Peter walked out from around the desk and offered his hand. It was only then that Peter noticed ... he didn't have one.
"Call me Curt," he nodded as Peter quickly switched hands and his metal hand met Curt's only one.
"H-Have a seat," Peter cleared his throat and unbuttoned his blazer before sitting down at his desk, "I'll admit this interview was sprung upon me so I've only just had the past half hour to go over your file."
"And I'll admit I wasn't planning on being interviewed by a kid less than twice my age."
Peter looked up to see Curt Connors was smirking at him, and Peter chuckled.
"Less than twice your age? There's hardly a chance you're in your fifties," Peter stated, looking back down at his file, "So, for risk of sounding stupid, tell me about yourself."
"You've read my file. What more could you know?"
Peter shrugged, "Why biochemistry?"
Connors sat back in his chair and cleared his throat, "When I went into the military they had me working on special assignment - bioweaponry."
Peter's blood ran cold and he felt his jaw twitch as his mind immediately went to you and all the pain a bioweapon caused you. It almost took your life, and yet here was someone who worked in bioweaponry by choice.
"I see," Peter said briskly.
The temperature in the room could be felt going down ten degrees, and Connors shifted in his seat, "It wasn't exactly what I signed up for, but when you have a degree that the government thinks can be put to good use, you don't really say no."
"You could if you're not a coward," Peter held Connors's gaze and watched as a determined flash of anger sparked through his eyes.
"Bioweaponry is the farthest departed thing from what we were intended to do on this planet," Connors continued, "It hurts, destroys, kills, and decimates all within its path. In war, it's helpful but also a last resort. However, in the wrong hands, the loss and the potential impact can be far greater."
"We don't deal in bioweapons here," Peter told him, "Our biochemists play no part in that."
"Which is why I came to you," Connors nodded, "I'm tired of playing god and creating formulas that warp reality and existence. I've lost enough of myself to that."
Peter's eyes shamelessly traveled down to where Connors's sleeve hung empty. Connors had more of his arm left than Peter did - Connors's seemed to have been amputated just above the elbow - but Peter could understand his pain.
"I know this is a long shot and I know I've been out of the business for a while," Connors continued, "But something about this place felt right. You don't pretend to be anything you're not, and when I saw you speak a few years ago announcing your title within the company, I figured this was my chance."
"Because we both only have one hand and yet we still strive to lend it," Connors stated matter-of-factly.
"Way to use my handicap against me," Peter nodded, "You don't mess around."
"I didn't mean it like that."
"I know you didn't," Peter said, honestly.
He felt a sense of purpose and a strong will within Curt Connors that he couldn't quite place. In part, it was unsettling how much power was radiating off of him, but Peter found it immensely intriguing. Peter could barely go out of the house without his vibranium arm and he wouldn't be caught dead without it on. It had taken him quite some time to come to terms with people even being able to see it to begin with.
But here was Curt Connors, a man with nothing to lose and a track record to show that he'd already lost a lot, and he was here asking for a job.
"When would you like to start?" Peter asked, placing down the file.
Connors looked surprised for a moment before clearing his throat, "Whenever. As soon as possible."
"You're hired."
"Do you even have the power to do that?"
"Cute," Peter smirked before standing and smoothing down his tie, "Let's go. I'll show you the biochemistry labs. Then I'll drop you at HR and we can get paperwork settled."
Peter felt like power was radiating off of him as he walked Connors through the labs. Having never hired anyone before, Peter didn't understand the feeling of power he held in deciding the life of someone else. Sure, he played with people's lives every day as Spider-Man, but the sheer adrenaline Peter got from realizing he was in charge and that he was the boss caused a coiling fire to curl in his chest.
Having not had control over a lot of things in his life, having control over who worked within his company suddenly meant a lot more to him.
"We have a few open projects that we've been working on, and I know that your predecessor left a few half-finished projects as well," Peter said as he walked through the large biochemistry lab, "You'll have two colleagues working alongside you and a team of assistants, but a lot of your work should be done from your own interests. We have certain projects we need to work on annually and renewals to upgrade as technology evolves, but experimenting and exploring new avenues of your interests is where we flourish."
"You're smarter than I thought," Connors admitted, "I thought you were just some punk who moonlit as a superhero."
"That's the impression a lot have of me," Peter nodded, "However, I take my job very seriously. I don't always enjoy it and Tony can be a dramatic bitch, but when it comes to implementing new tech to assist and aid others, there's no margin for error."
"I can't work as quickly as others," Connors pointed to his arm, "I'm sure you're aware."
"Work at your own pace, but always be working," Peter reminded him, "And if you have questions, ask."
"Me, what?"
"Ask you? What do you know of biochemistry?" Connors asked simply.
Peter smirked feeling the power fizzle through his veins, "More than you'd expect. You'll start on Monday. Lisa in HR will take care of all your paperwork now."
After showing Connors to HR and making his way back up to his lab, Peter decided to head instead to his lab one floor down to check in. Étienne's lab was empty of anyone, but it was filled with work geared towards the art gallery you and Étienne were working on. Peter blew past it, nodding to Harley where he was working across the hallway before stopping short when he noticed Cindy.
It was like a ghost filtering through a dream. No matter how often Cindy spent in her lab or how long she stuck around, sometimes it truly hit Peter that she was actually there. With his lab right across from hers, he'd spent years staring into the red abyss of her empty and silent lab space. If he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could still remember every little detail of how it had stayed untouched.
But now the lights were back on and new projects, statistics, and blueprints were scattered around the space. Where Peter always implemented a clean and organized workspace, Cindy's space was always a mess. Chaos erupted around her wherever she worked, and seeing her once again in the midst of it all caused Peter to smile.
He knocked on the glass and stuck his head in, "Hey," he smiled, "Working on anything fun?"
"Aw, the big boss man came down to see the peasants," Cindy smirked, smiling back at him, "Someone's happy. I could feel the vibrations jittering around you the second you got on this floor."
"I just made my first hire," Peter proudly boasted, "And if you tell Tony I actually enjoyed it, I'll have to kill you."
"That sounds exciting," Cindy muttered, obviously half paying attention.
Peter watched as she worked and the two fell into silence. It might have seemed odd to anyone else to watch as Peter leaned against the doorframe and watched on silently, but this was normal and routine. Peter enjoyed watching Cindy's process just as much as she enjoyed watching his. Working together in the lab had never been a big success for them considering their work ethics were so different that it often led to a mishap or massive proportions, but there was something comforting about watching one another work.
"I was thinking about you last night," Cindy whispered quietly, "You've been so busy I haven't seen you all week."
"Thinking about anything good?"
Peter could feel words dripping from the edge of Cindy's tongue and could see that she had something building inside her she wanted to say, but when she just shook her head and smiled slightly, Peter pouted.
"So um ..." she cleared her throat and leaned back against her workstation, crossing her arms, "There's something I need to talk to you about."
"What's up?" Peter walked over to stand next to her, leaning in the same way she was until their arms were touching. Cindy subconsciously leaned into him and huffed.
"Don't get mad," she whispered, "But I brought something here with me that I'm going to need you to keep safe so it doesn't fall into the wrong hands. If Ezekiel finds a way here to this Earth, he's going to look for it first with me. But if I give it to you then I think it'll be safer."
"You're scaring me," Peter said as Cindy tugged at the long chair around her neck and pulled it out from under her shirt.
The pendant at the end of the necklace looked like a small locket, but when Cindy opened it up, Peter noticed there was a small vial inside before Cindy tipped it out into her hand. It shone blue - a light, sort of irridescent blue - and Peter felt a tugging sensation in his chest as he looked at it.
"Ezekiel made this before we left," Cindy pressed it into Peter's hand, "I destroyed all his notes and files on it as I was leaving, but I worry he'll make more."
"What is it?"
"Spidey serum," Cindy muttered, "And a good one too. I checked it and did some hypothetical tests using the formula. It works, and I think Ezekiel was planning on their using it on himself, or replicating it enough to create an army."
Peter rolled the vial between his fingers before holding it up to the light, "You're telling me that this little thing can give someone the same powers the spider bite gave us?"
"It's cyphened directly from a radioactive spider Ezekiel was working on mixed with some of Jessica's compounds in her DNA. I don't exactly know how he did it, but it works. I've run the tests."
Peter felt a weird sense of dread as he looked it the serum. The idea of multiple brainless soldiers without a conscious other than what Ezekiel wanted them to do with the strength, power, and skills that he and Cindy possessed ... it was a full-on nightmare.
"And what do you want me to do with it?" Peter asked, looking to Cindy, "Why would you keep this from me for so long?"
"At first I was afraid to let it out of my sight," Cindy admitted, "But we've been here long enough now that Jessica is starting to acclimate to her surroundings. She's making friends and she'll start going to school soon ... I guess I thought Ezekiel would find us quicker. But the longer he's not here, the more I'm split between thinking he's biding his time or he just can't find us."
"Hopefully the latter," Peter mumbled.
"But if we are going to be here longterm, then that needs to be locked away somewhere," Cindy pointed to the serum, "And you and Tony run this building so my guess is you know all the secret hiding places."
"There's a place in my lab," Peter nodded, "I keep only the special things in there. No one's going to find it."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you right away," Cindy sighed, "I thought of destorying it multiple times but for some reason I just couldn't bring myself to do it."
"I understand," Peter nodded.
It was a weird sensation, but Peter could somehow feel in his bones why this serum was important. Important for what, he wasn't entirely sure yet, but it still resonated with him on a very personal level. This serum was a variation of what ran through his veins and had embedded in his DNA. For a moment, a scary thought passed through his mind.
"Do you think this could be reverse-engineered?" he asked softly.
Cindy furrowed her eyebrows. "You mean ... take your powers away?"
"N-Not mine," Peter whispered, "Just like, in general, do you think it could?"
"Well, we'd obviously have to study it and run a few algorithms and tests, but I'm sure it could be done. It would probably be painful - just as painful as our transition post-bite was. It would literally be rewriting DNA, right? But maybe. Why do you ask?"
"Just a theory," Peter lied, smiling tightly. "I'll go secure this for you."
"Thanks P," Cindy nodded, "I knew I could count on you."
Peter quickly retreated from the lab and headed over to his own, finding the small compartment hidden in the wall that held all his valuables he wanted no one to ever find. Sliding the serum into the compartment and watching as the panel once again solidified back into the wall, Peter felt the guilt creeping up his spine.
Spider-Man was at the core of his identity and after being Spider-Man for years and years it was hard to think of his life without his powers. But he'd never had any reason not to think about what life could be without Spider-Man. He'd always had one duty - to protect and keep safe the people of his city. But now, having met you and committed himself to you, his duties had changed, along with his priorities.
With Cindy's return and Jessica now in their life, that was two more spidey-related heroes in the world that Peter had never had the chance to even dream of. And Peter had quite the future ahead of him already without his role as Spider-Man by running Tony's company. For a moment, Peter allowed himself to think of what his life could be like as a normal man. His job wouldn't consist of late night patrols or throwing himself into danger. He'd come home to you ever night, marry you, maybe even ... start a family.
Peter had blocked away that part of him for so long and not even allowed himself to think about having children because he knew his spidey powers would transfer to them, so he'd refused to let himself think about it. But he'd never had anyone he'd wanted to start a family with.
And now he had you.
You could tell that something was a bit off with Peter that night at trivia, but you didn't press him on it. He spent most of the time working on his tablet, looking up and helping to answer questions whenever he could. He'd been so busy with work lately that you felt bad for him, but you knew that he was doing something he loved (even though he'd never admit it).
The dynamic hadn't changed much with Cindy's arrival. Trivia night was still just a meeting of all your friends set aside to relax and hang out. It was a sacred time, which was probably why halfway through the night MJ finally snatched the tablet away from Peter and glared at him while putting it in her bag.
"No more working," she declared, "You can be angry with me all you want, but this isn't working time."
"You're so annoying," Peter grumbled before slouching in his chair and accepting it.
"Just relax," you told him, "We've all been so busy."
Peter pouted like a child before pulling you into his arms, wrapping you up tightly as you giggled. You felt more carefree in this moment than you had in a long time, but you knew part of that was because the alcohol in your system was keeping you from thinking about Cindy. You'd felt like your relationship with Peter had been strained since she got here, and even though you hated to admit it, you'd felt like you couldn't be yourself with him the way you'd want to be whenever she was around ... which was all the time.
Even though you and Cindy were on relatively good terms (as good as they could be) you still felt a little bit removed from yourself whenever she was around. You couldn't help comparing yourself to her, or wondering what she was thinking of you and Peter, or wondering if she had meant what she said about accepting that you and Peter were together.
The more you thought about it, the more it plagued your mind. And you the worst part was you knew you were doing it to yourself - Cindy had done nothing to make you feel this way. But you alone couldn't stop thinking about it.
Peter pushed your hair to the side and kissed along the dip in your neck and down your shoulder. "What's your schedule look like tomorrow?" he asked softly in your ear.
"Tomorrow," you hummed, "Tomorrow is Saturday."
"It sure is."
"I work tomorrow," you sighed, "I have a few art gallery meetings."
"With him?" Peter glared at Étienne and you rolled your eyes, nudging him with your shoulder.
"Just a few morning meetings and then I'm done for the day," you continued, "What's your schedule look like tomorrow?"
"Well tomorrow is Saturday," Peter confirmed again, "So I have meetings until three."
"Sounds boring," you kissed his cheek.
"It is, but I have you to look forward to afterwards," he kissed you softly, "What do you say we paint the guest bedroom in our house?"
You smiled, "I like the sound of that."
Peter hummed against your neck, sending vibrations that caused you to shiver down your spine. You gripped his shirt tightly as he nibbled on your neck a bit and pushed your body closer to his.
"I like the sound of that too," you whispered, closing your eyes and allowing Peter's scent to envelope your entire being.
And true to his word, Peter looked forward to being with you all day the following day. The meetings dragged on, and he figured you were extremely busy considering you didn't text him back after one of his meetings got out around 1:30. He only had a few more before his day ended, and the thought of getting to do something so homely and domestic as painting a guest bedroom with you was getting him through it.
That is, until halfway through his next meeting, his phone kept ringing.
First it was his office phone, which he simply turned off. Usually he'd pause the meeting to answer, but this meeting was something he'd been focused on for too long to let a single moment pass.
"It could be beneficial," Marcus, one of the chemists spoke up, "If we don't start working to understand black matter, then someone else is going to."
"We don't work in black matter," Peter stated, "I don't know how many more times I have to make myself clear. It's dangerous, there are no positive purposes to working with it, and it can cause severe damage to those who mishandle it."
"If OSCORP starts working with it -"
"I don't care about OSCORP," Peter spat, "I don't care about Alchemax, or the Baxter Building, or any other scientific organization close to our intellect that starts to handle black matter. We're not doing it."
"But we have the best minds," Marcus stated, "If anyone is going to crack black matter equations or learn how to control it, it'll be us."
"That's bold of you to say, Marcus," Peter growled, "And why would we want to control a dangerous and volatile substance? For what purpose? We don't work in weapons, or trying to control the uncontrollable."
"Didn't you work on black matter in the past?" another chemist spoke up, "Why is it off limits now?"
"This decision is final and it's backed by Tony," Peter gestured to Tony sitting boredly at the other end of the table, "So if you'd like to go over my head -" Peter started to threaten, but his phone started going off again. It had been buzzing on the table for what felt like ages, and noticing the same number had called now seven times, Peter felt his aggravation spike.
"I'm going to get this call and then once I'm done you're all going to stop wasting my time and we're going to get back to work," Peter said, finally answering the call.
"Who is this?" he barked into his phone, "And what do you want?"
"Peter," Étienne breathed, "Finally!"
“How did you get my number?” Peter felt his anger rising his his throat at just the sound of Étienne’s breathing.
“Peter, it’s Y/N.”
Peter stood so quickly that everything on the table rattled. Everyone visibly leaned back in their chairs as Peter tried to contain himself.
“What about her? Where is she? Is she okay?” he asked, more like demanded, as he heard Étienne sniffle.
“I don’t - I don’t know. We were planning for the art gallery and Linda called her into the Night Clinic and she’s been here now for an hour and -”
“An hour?” Peter screamed, slamming his fist down onto the table and visibly cracking it as a few people jolted. Tony stood up on the other end of the table and held his hands out as if trying to coax Peter back down.
You’d been at the Night Clinic for an unknown reason for an hour, and Peter hadn’t been notified until now.
“Get here,” Étienne said, “Quickly. Linda won’t turn you away.”
Peter hung up without another word and said, “I have to go,” before he was striding out of the conference room without collecting any of his things. His lungs felt like they were filling up with water and he was suffocating as he strode out into the hallway, loosening his tie as he went.
“Peter!” Tony called after him, jogging to keep up, “Whoa, Peter, slow down!”
“Y/N’s at the Night Clinic and she’s apparently been there for an hour,” Peter breathed in deeply, “I have to go see her. If it’s her antidote again I don’t know what ... I don’t know how -”
“Okay okay,” Tony grasped Peter’s arm and squeezed tightly to get his full attention, “Just breathe, okay?”
“I have to go,” Peter clenched his jaw before turning away from Tony and activating his suit. The glass window panel slid open behind his desk and without a second though Peter jumped out of it and swung through the air. It didn't take him long before he was landing at the back entrance of FEAST and pressing his hand to the sensor for the Night Clinic. The panel in the wall opened and he ran down the stairs, suit retracting back into his arm as he ran.
He nearly skidded into the wall as he turned the sharp corner and he saw Étienne pacing a few feet away, nibbling on his bottom lip.
"Where is she?" Peter demanded, "What room?"
"This one. This one!" Étienne pulled Peter towards one of the exam rooms and without knocking Peter broke the doorknob and pushed his way into the room.
You jumped slightly as Peter strode into the room. His eyes were wild and he looked frenzied and scared. You could tell he was visibly shaking as he looked over you quickly as if checking for any signs of distress before he turned to Linda.
"You didn't call me," he stated. You assumed it was supposed to be in his usual demanding tone, but instead his voice sounded distraught and begging.
"Peter, I -" you started.
"Are you okay?" he asked, walking over and cupping his hand to your face, looking over you, "Are you feeling okay? What happened?" he asked, moving his hands all over your body as if inspecting for injuries.
"I'm fine, Peter. I'm fine," you whispered, reaching his shaking hands and grasping them in yours.
"Why is she here?" Peter turned to Linda, "What's going on?"
He turned back to you and grasped the back of your head, kissing your forehead and holding you there for a moment before you lightly pushed him away.
"S-Sorry," he cleared his throat and turned back to you, "I'm just ..." Peter bent his head slightly and whispered, "... scared."
"It's nothing bad," Linda said softly, "But I figured maybe I would explain to Y/N and then she would later explain to you on her own time."
Tears started to build in your eyes and Peter felt like he was going to throw up. If it wasn't bad, why would you be crying? He grasped your hand in his and brought your knuckles to his lips, kissing them softly.
"You can explain," you told Linda quietly, "I don't exactly understand ... yet."
Linda nodded before walking over to start removing the IV from your arm. Peter only now started to take stock of the situation. Linda had been taking your blood, and as he turned to the monitors behind him, he started to try and understand the medical jargon written on them.
"I've been suspecting something was slightly off about Y/N's blood for a while. There was an anomaly I couldn't quite place and I didn't question it further or push it because if it wasn't harming her, then my guess was it was just a side effect from the bio weapon."
"But?" Peter whispered, holding your hand tightly as Linda took the other to extend your arm and bandage where the IV had been.
"A few months ago when we had all the ambassadors here, you remember they ... got into a fight? I treated all of them and I had all these samples. I was curious about the different DNA compositions and so I tested some of the blood from the Asgardians and the Skrulls, just to see."
"And she found a match," you whispered, eerily quiet.
"I don't understand," Peter looked to you.
"Look here," Linda pulled up an equation that Peter had no idea the meaning behind it, but then when Linda pulled up your own bloodwork, he suddenly understood.
"Asgardian," Peter mumbled, "You're ...?"
He turned back to see that you looked pale and tired. You were looking past him, not at him, as Peter squeezed your hand a bit tighter.
You were Asgardian.
"Not completely Asgardian," Linda stated softly, "Half."
"Half," Peter nodded, "Your mom isn't...?"
"My dad," you muttered, pulling your hand from Peter's and looking down as you clasped your hands together, "It makes sense, thinking on it now. There were a lot of signs leading to it, but since I never thought to make the connection I never put it all together."
Your brain felt like it was melting through your body and your skin was on fire. All those times your dad had mentioned something about his "homeland" or about his culture growing up, you hadn't given it much thought. And whenever your mom had said something about your dad's family being "worlds away" you'd simply figured another continent. But there were never any photos, or any names for you to add to your family tree assignment in elementary school. You never heard where your family was from, just "not here."
Little things that you'd noticed about your father growing up that you'd always wondered in the back of your mind but never let yourself truly dwell on started to surface. Like the way he never asked anyone for help when carrying groceries, or how he was ridiculously tall and muscular compared to all the other dads. He was a cop and then a detective ... that's how all cops were, right?
Or the fact that he'd trained you and your sister from an early age self-defense and some combat moves to "keep you both safe" just in case you ever needed them. Your sister hadn't had much interest in them, but you'd spent hours as a kid "sparring" with your dad. And there had always been a slight accent, but you'd never thought too much of it because it was normal to you having grown up with him. It had always sounded vaguely European, so you hadn't pushed it.
He'd seemed invincible, and yet he'd died so easily once he'd fallen ill.
"If he was Asgardian, how did he die?" you asked quietly, "Aren't Asgardians, like, immortal?"
"There's no saying how old your father was," Linda said quietly and carefully, "But my guess is he caught something that he couldn't quite shake. Asgardians have been sick. I've seen them fall ill reading about New Asgard. There are Earth-related illnesses that they aren't prone to so they don't have the same antibodies. Or ..."
"Or he was killed," you mumbled, looking away from everyone so you wouldn't start crying. You blinked furiously, willing yourself not to cry, but the feeling of Peter's hand gently resting on your lower back nearly broke you.
"So my sister too?" you asked, "She's Asgardian as well?"
"She has the same DNA," Linda agreed, "But my guess is the Asgardian genes and powers aren't as dominant in everyone, so where you might possess some special abilities, your sister might not or vice versa."
Peter's head was spinning as he thought back to all the moments that started to click. There were the moments you'd snap and suddenly it was like you were alert and overly aware of your surroundings if you thought you or anyone you knew might be in danger. Or when you would squeeze just a little too tightly, or bite and break his skin. Not to mention your fight or flight being significantly leaning towards fight whenever you were presented with a challenge. Peter knew that even if you weren't in any way Asgardian, you'd still have that fierce heart in you. But the fact that you had Asgardian blood running through your veins would explain why you were so eager to assist others by jumping into battle.
"Oh my God," you mumbled, "My mom must have known. She must have known where he was from ... right?"
"They were married," Peter said softly, rubbing your back up and down slowly, "I can only imagine two people who loved each other that much wouldn't have kept such a secret like that."
"This also explains why you were able to hold off the bio weapon for longer than a normal human when you were first attacked," Linda informed you, "Your body is just a bit tougher than the rest."
"Well we already knew that," Peter smiled slightly, "Asgardian or not, you've always been a warrior."
You sniffled and tried to smile and nod, but your body just wasn't letting you. Normally, Peter would ask for permission or make sure you were comfortable, but he didn't ask as he reached out and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. He grasped you so firmly in his arms that you allowed your body to go completely limp against his, giving into your exhaustion, and Peter sighed while kissing your temple.
"You're okay," he whispered, "Everything's okay."
"Who was he?" you asked, mostly to yourself, but it came out out loud.
"He was your dad," Peter said, "He was always your dad."
"But who was he before he was my dad?" you asked, "Will I ever know?"
Peter nibbled on his lip for a moment before he reached behind him for his phone in his back pocket, "I'll reach out to Loki," he stated, "I'll let him know and we can see if there was anyone Loki or Valkyrie would have been aware of leaving Asgard before the time you were born. We can show them photos of your dad and see if they recognize him."
Your hand shot out and you grasped his wrist, eyes wide when he looked up at you. "Don't," you whispered, "This isn't your issue to take care of. This is a family matter. It doesn't concern you."
Peter's eyes softened as he grasped your hand in his wrist and pulled it away, shifting so that your fingers were intertwined with his, "You're my family, peaches. Everything about you concerns me. You're my priority," he whispered, "I'd do anything for you, Y/N. Okay? Let me do this for you. Let's find you the answers you need."
"What if I don't want them?" you asked hurriedly. "What if he was some sort of criminal who was exiled? Or an assassin or a traitor?"
Linda placed her hand comfortingly on your shoulder, "You know in your heart who your father was. He was a kind man who raised a brilliant and loving daughter. No one who raised someone to be as amazing and kind as you could be anything other than a wonderful man."
"I know you, baby," Peter whispered, "And I know that if you keep yourself from finding out the information you're hoping to find, you'll go insane."
You knew Peter was right. It was comforting to know that Peter knew what you wanted without having to ask. You nodded with tears in your eyes. Peter smiled encouragingly before kissing you softly and then stepping out into the hall.
He could hear Linda explaining more to you as he closed the now broken door behind him. Étienne was still sitting on one of the benches in the hall, hands clasped tightly and foot bobbing up and down. When he saw Peter, he stood and cleared his throat.
"Is she okay?"
"She's fine," Peter nodded, too tired and coming down from his initial panic to keep up his angry act with Étienne - someone who obviously loved and cared for you very much. "I'll let her tell you though on her own time."
"But nothing's wrong?"
"She's perfectly healthy," Peter nodded, "But I'd give her space. You don't have to stay. She'll call when she wants to speak to everyone."
"Okay," Étienne nodded, "Does she need anything? Do ... you need anything?"
"Uh ... no," Peter mumbled, "But ... thanks."
"Sure," Étienne grabbed his jacket, "Let me know though, if anything comes up."
Peter nodded instead of spitting the usual 'don't hold your breath' remark he'd normally spew. His day had taken quite the turn, and he was too tired to get into it with Étienne who had been the one to alert him to your condition in the first place. Étienne wasn't petty, so calling your boyfriend to come and make sure you were okay was something a good person would do, and Peter knew that Étienne was a good person. But sometimes he still got on Peter's nerves.
"Peter?" you stuck your head out of the doorway as Étienne was making his way out, "I don't want you to call Loki just yet."
"Okay," Peter immediately put his phone away, "What do you want?"
"Firstly, I'd like for you to stop treating me like a child," you said, crossing your arms, "I can handle myself."
"I'm aware."
"Okay well it didn't seem like you did," you rolled your eyes, "You ran in here like I'd gotten detention at primary school or something."
"I was concerned for you," Peter smirked, "But I see from your sass that you are perfectly fine."
You shrugged and crossed your arms, leaning against the wall as you looked around you, "I don't feel like an Asgardian," you mumbled, "I feel like ... me."
"Feeling like you is the best way to feel," Peter stood across from you and gave you your space, "Just because you've found out something new about yourself doesn't mean you're any different from the person you were before you knew this information. Now you just get to better understand yourself."
"God what is everyone going to say," you groaned, covering your face.
"It doesn't matter what the say," Peter reminded you, pushing off the wall and grasping your wrists lightly to remove them from your face, "Whatever they have to say, they're just words. Words can't hurt you, nor do they control you."
"Says the guy who lets everyone's words get to him," you poked Peter in the chest, smiling slightly.
Peter chuckled and shrugged, "Everyone loves you and they're going to love you no matter who you are or whose DNA runs through your veins, got it?" Peter kissed your forehead, "If anything, they'll probably love you more because this just proves how badass you are."
You scoffed, "Speaking of words, you somehow always know what to say."
You melted into Peter's arms and the two of you stood there in the middle of the hallway holding one another as you allowed yourself to relax. Weirdly enough, when Linda had first told you about her findings, it hadn't exactly surprised you. Maybe deep in your soul you'd known all along? You'd never wanted to admit that you were special because it never felt like you had the right to be. But Peter had always made you feel special since the moment he met you, and so part of you had always thought that yes, you were different, and that yes, you were special.
You'd just never expected it be this special.
"When you're ready to call Loki, we can call him together. Or, better yet, I can take you to New Asgard and we can find all the answers we need there."
"But you'll stay with me?" you asked hesitantly, "I'm not ready to take all this on alone."
"You're not going to have to," Peter told you firmly, "I promise. I'll be by your side the whole time."
"Thank you," you breathed, "I love you."
"Ah," Peter smiled, "Speaking of words, my three favorite to hear you say."
You laughed before he kissed you, whispering, "I love you too."
Once you were ready, Peter took you back to Stark Industries where you sat in his office the rest of the day as Peter caught up on the work he'd missed. You felt like your chest was bursting seeing how Peter understood you. Even though you'd had plans to go and paint the guest bedroom of your new place, Peter knew that with this new information of Asgardian blood in your veins, you'd want to work - you'd want a distraction.
He didn't even ask you, or see if it was what you wanted. He knew you well enough to know that you'd need to tire out your brain through work before you could fully compute this new information. As you sat on the sofa and worked, your eyes would always meet Peter's whenever you looked up. His eyes would land on yours and he's smile slightly while remaining on the phone, or before he looked back down at his work, you it always left you comforted.
The two of you ate with Harley, Jessica, and Cindy in Harley's lab for dinner. Peter didn't bring up your newly discovered ancestry once, making you realize that he truly was leaving this new information for you to tell. At one point Cindy nudged her foot against yours, poking you then with her chopsticks to shake you from your daydream.
"What's wrong?" she asked flatly.
You pushed your orange chicken around the container and shrugged, "Just a long day," you mumbled.
You caught the eye of Tony as he was walking by out of his office and when he noticed you sitting in there he stopped, gave you a subtle thumbs-up as if asking "you good?"
You quickly nodded and gave him a just as subtle thumbs-up back, to which he nodded and kept walking. Obviously it wasn't subtle enough, because Cindy put down her food and crossed her arms.
"Liar," she stated.
"It's not a big deal," you muttered.
She eyed you suspiciously for a moment as you held her gaze, waiting for her to snap. But she didn't, and instead she turned to Jessica and asked, "So, are you ready for patrol tonight?"
"I've been dying to go out!" Jessica wailed dramatically, tossing herself backwards onto Harley's sofa.
"You've been so patient. I'm proud of you," Harley chuckled, "But we had to make sure your suit was just right."
Jessica sat bolt upright with wide eyes and an even wider smile, "You finished it?" she nearly screamed, causing all of you to laugh.
"Feast your eyes, spiderling," Harley said, turning in his chair and hitting a few buttons on his keyboard. The wall panel behind one of his lab tabels opened to reveal a shiny suit in the same material as Peter's old suits. It was all red with the bodice and boots a shimmering yellow outlined in black. Instead of a full mask, there was only a prepared mask for the eyes in the same white style as Peter's lined in yellow and red.
"Oh my gosh," Jessica whispered in awe, "I love it!"
"It's the first of many," Peter reminded her, "But it should do for now."
"Now you can officially start patrolling with us," Cindy smiled brightly.
"But I don't have a name!" Jessica wailed, "What should I go by? Spider-Girl sounds so ... childish. A-And I don't have anything fun to be named after like Cindy's silk scarf. I ... I don't -"
"How about you start going by Spider-Woman?" Peter asked, "Sounds like a promising, young super-heroine, right?"
Jessica was almost in tears as she jumped up and, to everyone's surprised, tackled Peter in a hug first. His eyes widened and he didn't hug back right away, before his eyes met yours in alarm and surprise. Slowly he hugged her back as she continued to squeeze him excitedly and yell, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"
The moment was touching enough that you could have started crying. Peter held Jessica tightly as she giggled and continued to squeeze him excitedly. She pulled away and wiped her tears before saying, "I won't let you down."
"I know," Peter nodded, "I know you won't."
"I'm going to go get dressed!" Jessica screeched, grabbing the suit from where Harley had his hung up and bolting out the door."
"Well that was adorable," Harley smirked, "Super spidey dad over here."
He jerked his thumb in Peter's direction and Peter rolled his eyes, "She's not going to be a girl forever. At some point she's going to grow up, and going by Spider-Girl her whole life I'm sure would be scaring."
"You know we're going to really have to look after her?" Cindy fretted, trying to keep it together, "She's never practiced out in the open before."
"She's going to be fine, Cin," Peter waved it off, "She's strong and she's ready."
"IT FITS!" you could all hear Jessica screeching from the bathroom, and you couldn't help but laugh.
"I'm going to head home," you stood, setting aside your barely eaten dinner, "I'm exhausted."
"I can take you," Peter stood, setting aside his dinner.
"No no," you placed your hand on his chest and smiled at him lovingly, "I don't want you to miss a single moment of this."
You nudged your head in Jessica's direction where she'd slid out into the hallway again, now completely dressed. "IT HAS WINGS!" she screamed, nearly sobbing as she lifted her arms to show the built in spiderweb styled wings Harley had installed.
Peter smirked and affectionately watched as Jessica spun around to view her image in the glass. A weird pride was overtaking him that he couldn't quite place. As afraid as he was to let loose such a young girl as Jessica onto patrol, he also knew she was strong enough to handle it. He'd been watching her train for almost two months now, and he felt a sense of satisfaction and pride seeing her come into her powers with such grace and poise.
"I'll see you tomorrow," you reached up on your tip toes to kiss Peter on the cheek.
"I'm making breakfast tomorrow," Peter reminded you, "For Ned's birthday."
"Oh my God I completely forgot," Cindy gasped, "I don't have a gift for him yet!"
"We can go shopping after patrol," Peter said, "You'll be there?"
"Like I'd miss Neddy's birthday," Cindy rolled her eyes.
Peter nodded and looked back down at you, "Why don't you stay the night at mine tonight? I can meet you there once patrol is over."
As tempting as that was, you felt the strongest urge to be home in your own bed. The first people you wanted to tell about your newfound identity were your best friends, and you knew that if you could get through telling them, you could tell anyone.
"I think I should be home tonight," you whispered, "But thank you, lover."
"I'll see you in the morning then," Peter whispered before kissing you. It was one of the slow, drawn out kisses that always made your toes curl. It was almost too comfortable of a kiss, like slipping into a particularly warm blanket, or the feeling of a nice hot shower.
"See you in the morning," you agreed once you broke apart, "Thank you for today."
"Of course," Peter squeezed your hand once more before you made your way out. It had been a while since you'd taken the train and as you made your way to your subway stop, you felt young, vulnerable, and displaced. Nothing about you had changed other than information relating to your family's past, and yet everything felt different.
You were so in your mind that you barely paid attention as you walked up the steps to your apartment. Thandie was over at Jason's for the night, and Lazlo said he was working a full night shift, so even though you'd wanted to talk with them, you'd have to wait.
The hallway was dark because the light had gone out a week ago and your landlord still hadn't fixed it. And maybe if you weren't so in your head and preoccupied mentally you would have been more aware, but instead you had to hear him first as he stepped out of the dark.
Just like the psychopath he was.
"Hi princess."
Immediately you dropped your keys and gasped so loudly and sharply that your lungs felt like they were being cut. You stumbled backwards and nearly tripped over your own feet had he not reached out and caught you.
Pale, pale blue eyes, silvery blonde hair, and even paler skin - Harry Osborn had hardly changed since the last time you saw him.
"I've been waiting for you," he said smoothly, letting you go as you stepped back, having gained your footing. He ran his hands through his long, silky hair and smiled, winking at you. "Long time, no see. Huh princess?"
"Don't call me that," you whispered.
Your brain stopped functioning, and every thought to call Peter, or anyone, shut down. Here Harry was completely unannounced on today of all days staring at you. Your waist was still burning from where his hands had touched you, and you felt like you could cry.
Some Asgardian warrior you were, reduced to tears and shaking at the sight of your shitty ex-boyfriend.
"I missed you," Harry stepped forward, causing you to take another step back, "I'm back in the city and figured I would pop in and say hi. We should catch up."
"What are you doing here?"
"I just said, I missed you," Harry rolled his eyes, "Aren't you listening? Let's get a drink."
There was a weird swishing noise and then someone landed in front of you. You closed your eyes as you hear a sharp smack, hiss, and Harry cursing under his breath.
"Fat chance, Skeletor. My girl isn't going anywhere with you."
Your eyes opened wide as you looked up to see Felicia standing in front of you with her legs wide, hand still raised, and a devilish look in her eyes. Harry's cheek was bleeding where she'd clawed at him, and she put her arm out, blocking you from him.
"I suggest you leave," Felicia purred, "And if you don't, I'll go for the throat next time. And not in the fun way I know you like."
Harry wiped at the blood on his cheek and scoffed, "Not as much fun as you used to be, huh Fe?"
"You'd be surprised," Felicia purred, "Now leave before I beat your ass."
Harry tossed his jacket over his shoulder and shrugged, "Till next time, princess," he winked and headed down the stairs.
"Don't count on it!" Felicia called after him before turning to you.
She was dressed in a pair of tight leather leggings, a black bralette, and the hottest most trim leather jacket you'd ever seen. Her long, lush silvery hair was somehow perfectly placed even after ambushing Harry, and she checked her nails before sighing dramatically.
She bent down and picked up your keys, opening your door. You watched as she walked in as if she'd never been away, surveying the place. "Oh," she looked down as Webs hissed at her, "I see you still have this furry baby."
"Felicia," you breathed, stepping into your apartment and closing the door, making sure to lock it. "You're here!"
"In the flesh. Bullet holes and all," she nodded, trying to look bored, "Where's Lazlo keeping his tequila these days?"
"I missed you so much!" you gushed, running up to her and wrapping your arms around her.
Felicia stiffened and mumbled, "Aw ... gross," before you felt her wrap her arms around you and hug you back.
* * *
“But there’s three words that just mean so much to me. Especially if they’re true. If you mean ‘em let me hear you say (I love you). Right (I love you). Oh yes, yes. (I love you) Mm yes I do (You know I do) Just can’t deny it (I swear I do) No doubt about i baby. Way deep in my soul.” - Solomon Burke
* * *
author's note: my editing for this chapter was super lazy because i got tired of it halfway through, so i apologize for any typos or grammatical errors. but here it is ! ch. 3 "in the flesh"
also i know the whole harry thing felt rushed but i wanted it to because i wanted it to feel super disjointed and kind of like ‘wait what just happened’ because that will lead up to the next chapter lol so don’t worry, yes it’s bad writing, but it’s bad writing intentionally *i tell myself* 
thanks for hanging in and waiting for the next chapter ! as always, y'all are the gems of my life. hope you enjoyed !
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