#Quentin Beck needs to be arrested

[ironspiderfics]

this is supposed to be a vacation

for @meilz

by @iron--spider

~

Tony loves this kid.

It’s a montage at the beginning of a movie—Tony was crazy about Peter almost immediately, couldn’t accept it, his own damn daddy issues courtesy of Howard Stark, then he had to accept it because the kid kept trying to die, then things settled, they worked together, then they unsettled and the kid dissolved in Tony’s hands, and a year of heavy-drinking and nearly exploding himself in the lab wound up with all the dissolved people undissolved and the kid back and Tony in a hospital bed. Three-week coma. Whole screaming celebration when he woke up loud enough to bust his eardrums and restart his heart.

But Peter was there. Peter was there. 

Time slowed to a crawl, sped up and slowed down again, and Tony tried to recover. He knew Peter and his friends went on that European trip—he encouraged it even though Peter was worried about leaving after everything. May and Happy chaperoned, and then everyone nearly died because Quentin fucking Beck decided to roll out of Tony’s past to try and kill off someone he loves. He failed, because Peter is Peter, and Fury and Happy shut down the false allegations Beck tried to put out there before he was arrested, and everybody came home.

It’s been about two months, since then. And Tony had just gotten back on his feet a week or so before Peter left, and he’s even steadier now. Getting steadier by the day. 

But he loves this kid. More now, than ever. The son he never had. He loves May, he loves the kids that come along with his kid, he loves everything Peter has to say and everything he doesn’t, he loves keeping an eye on his missions, he loves the way he fits so snug into Tony’s little family. 

And he loves him enough to know when he’s crashing. When his eyes are tired and his patrols aren’t as succinct and punchy as they usually are. When he needs a vacation from his recent vacation. As if nearly being killed by some asshole in London is the vacation any of them need. 

So, Tony makes a couple decisions. 

After all the shit they’ve gone through, what the hell could go wrong with a break?

~

Peter knew Tony was planning something, because he isn’t secretive when he’s excited, and he found out what he was planning when Tony asked if Ned and MJ’s families would mind if he took them out of the city for a few days.

And about a week later, they were heading upstate to Mohonk Mountain House.

And Peter hasn’t been complaining, at least not to Tony, but his tiredness has been bone-deep since he got back from London. Since before that, really. Coming back from the dead can do that to someone, and he doesn’t even like to call it dead, and apparently they were all tiny particle souls inside that infinity stone but it doesn’t matter because that’s a whole other can of worms and he gets more tired and more weary every time he even thinks about any of that. 

He swung right into a wall the other day. Slap right into it. He almost broke his nose again. He feels like that might have been the moment Tony decided on this vacation—Peter could tell by the look on his face when he told him that he’d crossed some kind of line. 

They walk inside the main lobby of Mohonk and Peter keeps hearing Ben’s voice in his head. You’re gonna catch flies, Pete. But he can’t stop gaping at everything. Like…he’s been in a Hilton and this is so much better than a Hilton. 

“This place looks straight out of a Hitchcock movie,” May says, and she knocks Tony on the arm.

Tony laughs, and Pepper turns around, raising her eyebrows at May. “Let’s just hope we don’t have any Hitchcock-type events happen while we’re here.”

“What would that mean?” Ned asks, catching up to the group and trying to whisper in Peter’s ear. “You’ve seen Hitchcock movies. I remember you watched that weird apartment one a hundred times.”

“I love that movie,” Peter says. Rear Window. He never wants his leg to be broken. He knows he’d go insane just like that.

“You haven’t seen Psycho?” MJ asks Ned, hoisting her backpack higher on her shoulder.

Ned hums a little bit. “No. I know about it though. No crazy Grandmas for me.”

“That’s not what happens.”

Leather couches and tall ceilings and intricate carpeting and columns and everything somehow looks really rich but really comfortable at the same time—

“No,” Tony says, turning around and pointing at them. “No, no, and no.” He points at May too. “No. No Rear Window, no Psycho, no Vertigo—maybe a little bit North by Northwest—no, you know what, no. Not that either. This is going to be the lamest movie you’ve ever—this isn’t even gonna be a movie, there’s no—there’s no plot, this is just—a family video. A home movie. That’s it.”

Family video feels warm, and Peter grins.

“Of course, Mr. Stark—”

“It’s gonna be fine—”

“Absolutely nothing—”

“Listen, I’m hitting that buffet—”

“I’m just gonna sleep,” Peter says, as they approach the huge front desk. “Just the entire time.”

Tony smiles softly at him, and he winks. “You deserve it,” he says, and Peter can tell that he means it. 

They hear crashing, something that sounds expensive hitting the ground somewhere behind them, and they all turn around and see a bunch of employees running around to try and take care of it. A whole big production and two guys trying to hold up a big bear statue that’s trying to fall over.

“Okay, step to,” Happy’s voice says, and Peter hears him before he sees him, and then he breezes by, striding out in front of them. “Let’s go, come on, follow me, let’s get this in the books—”

“Oh, there he is,” Tony says, patting him on the shoulders. “There he is.”

~

Peter and May could never afford a vacation like this. They could never even afford to imagine something like this. Peter feels like they would have charged him if he’d even looked at photos of this place. A big, historic, mountain resort in upstate New York, on the edge of a cliff overlooking a lake? 

But now they’re here. They’re here with Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. Peter was able to bring two friends. Happy drove them all in a big plush rental van. They’ve got a line of suites on the sixth floor and they had steak and lobster for dinner on their first night. 

It feels unreal. But things feel unreal a lot. Especially things involving Tony, involving Spider-Man. Any of it. Like he’s having a long, prolonged dream before Ben wakes him up for school.

Peter stands on one of the terrace balconies with Tony while the others are arranging activities for tomorrow, and he stares off at the lake and the way the moon hits it. Light rippling on the water. 

“You really think you’re gonna sleep the whole time?” Tony asks, leaning on the railing. “Because nobody would judge you for it. Kayaks can wait. Ballroom dancing can absolutely wait, as can all of May’s Dirty Dancing comparisons, because I can feel them building up, like an aura around her—”

Peter snorts. “No,” he says. “But I probably will mostly just…relax. Take it easy. Just sleeping, no alarms—”

“You deserve it, like I said,” Tony says. “It’s thrilling to me that you’re even giving yourself a break.”

“Look who’s talking,” Peter says, giving him a look. “You were trying to get down to the workshop when your arm was still holding on by one string of muscle.”

Tony’s entire face contorts. “That is a terrible, disgusting image, Mr. Parker—”

Peter snorts again, choking on his laughter. 

Tony knocks him on the arm. “You’re awful, a menace, making fun of an injured old man—”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but it’s true,” Peter says, swatting him back, and still laughing. “You’re the one who needs—needs this. Like Happy always says, I’m a ‘spring chicken’, I—I can bounce back.”

“I had enough bedrest for the next ten years,” Tony says, and he’s giving Peter that look again. Concern. Like he’s trying to read his mind. “You—I know you like to act like it all doesn’t affect you, but you were going through hell on the daily before that purple asshole snapped his fingers. Then there was all that, and the right after that, and the coming back from that, and me wasting away in front of you—and then Quentin Beck flaunting his dickheaded tendencies on your school trip—that was supposed to be your relaxing time and it got away from you too and I just—like I said, you deserve your time. You need it. Don’t—you’re not selling yourself short if you say you need some rest. You put everybody first all the time, yourself last—you deserve to relax, that’s all.”

Peter blows out a breath. He doesn’t even really try to deny it in his head anymore. He doesn’t try to compare himself to other people who have it worse. He’s tired. He’s beat. He feels older than he is. 

Tony clicks his tongue and looks out at the lake. “I know this place is kind of old, kind of dated, rooms kind of look a little bit like grandma was head decorator, but—I, uh—I’ve got fond memories here. Mom used to bring me, when Howard was, uh…in some of his dicier moments. And sometimes we’d just relax, too. Recover from…knowing him.”

Peter is just kind of staring at him, because it always takes him off guard when Tony starts talking about Howard. They’re close enough now that he hears stories about his personal life all the time—his growing up, his insane college years with Rhodey, meeting Pepper meeting Happy and everything in between, but Howard is still…something they don’t really talk about, past flippant comments about Tony striving to be a better father figure than he ever was. 

“Then I’m glad you brought us here,” Peter says, his voice cracking a little bit. “I’m glad you brought me here.” And in his head he hears I’m glad you brought me back. Because he thinks about that all the time. 

Everyone’s back because of you, Peter. He never gave up on bringing you back. It was about saving you.

Tony looks like he’s about to say something else when there’s a bunch of rustling in the trees below them, and a loud thump, and more rustling. They both peer over the railing, and Peter can see the trees moving, but not anything else.

They share a wary look.

“Probably just a skunk,” Tony says.

“Oh, great.”

“Or maybe a band of feral cats.”

“Okay that’s better. Hopefully not too feral. Like, I hope they’re receptive to petting.”

They keep staring down at the trees, but it all seems quiet again.

~

Tony and Pepper have one room, Peter, MJ and Ned have the one in the middle, and May and Happy are on the end in a single room together even though Peter is refusing to acknowledge what that means or what might be going on in there. Tony mentioned that the rooms were dated, but they feel more like what a royal castle might look like inside, and for the longest time Peter is worried about wrinkling up the sheets. And then eventually it’s Ned’s snoring keeping him awake.

And then, when he’s finally mostly asleep—

“Peter.”

MJ’s voice. Peter’s in the bed with Ned and she got the other huge bed all to herself, but she sounds like she’s right next to him. He turns over onto his side, towards her voice, and then she’s—

On the ground right next to his face—

He startles a little bit, and she grabs his hand.

“MJ what—”

“There’s someone in the room.”

She’s whispering, and his heart speeds up a little bit. What the hell? There’s no way.

“Are you sure it’s not Happy?” Peter asks, as Ned lets out a rip of a snore. “Sometimes he likes to do perimeter checks—”

“It’s not Happy!” she whisper-yells.

Peter blinks, and she’s already pulling the sheets off him and yanking him out of bed, and he feels like he’d be more paranoid if something was actually happening, like he’d feel it pulsing and burning in his head, and she’s tugging on him and they’re stumbling over to the wall and—

“MJ—MJ—”

She flips on the light—

And Peter only sees him briefly—a man, standing over by the bathroom, and Peter barely gets to see what he looks like before the lights go out again. 

But he wasn’t Happy he wasn’t Tony he wasn’t supposed to be here, and Peter’s heart rockets into his throat and he hears MJ gasp and he hears feet moving and Ned is still snoring, and Peter rushes towards where the man was and tries to catch him tries to fight, but he only meets open air. 

MJ yanks the door open and she’s already running out into the hallway, yelling Tony’s name, yelling for Peter to follow her. And the hall light is streaming into their room now, and Peter looks around, breathing hard, trying to find the guy—

Nothing. Nothing.

Nobody’s here.

Ned is still snoring.

~

Tony stands next to Peter while the manager shows them the video footage. He watches their doors, completely still and closed from the hallway cameras, and then he watches MJ race out, and Tony and Happy run in a few minutes later. Followed by Pepper and May a few minutes after that. And then Ned finally looming out into the hallway, still half asleep.

“As you can see,” the manager says. “No one entered the room.”

Peter can feel Tony’s anger simmering beside him, and he takes it as a compliment that Tony is all-in on believing that they saw someone, even though he didn’t see him himself.

“Can I get the outside view again?” Tony asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Of course, Mr. Stark.”

They switch to the outside view again, which they’ve already seen about three times. The cameras aren’t great out there, and Happy found out they’re in the process of an upgrade. Peter can see their floor from a distance, he sees a little flash of light that they can’t identify, and then nothing else. No one scaling the building. Not in a way they can see, anyway.

“When will the upgrade be complete?” Tony asks, his tone clipped.

“After your stay, sir, unfortunately.”

Tony huffs, and doesn’t say anything else, and he turns and takes Peter’s arm and leads him to the door. They walk out into the hallway, where MJ and Ned quickly back up.

“Don’t need to listen through the wall,” Tony says.

“Uh, we weren’t,” MJ says. “We were just—”

“Looking at the wallpaper,” Ned says. “It’s—so cool.”

“Uh huh,” Tony says. He moves so they’re in a little circle, and he grips Peter’s shoulder. “Do you want to leave?” he asks, looking around at the three of them. “Because we can leave. We can go somewhere else, figure something else out. Or we can move rooms, we can go down to the Grove Lodge so we can all be closer together—we can do whatever we want.”

Ned’s eyes go wide. “I mean, I didn’t see anything, I was sleeping—”

“It’s fine,” MJ says, fast, glancing at Peter. “I feel like we—Peter and I must have been—I mean, we’re—everything that happened, we’re always thinking about it, and Mysterio was about like—making us think we were seeing things that weren’t there or were there but different—it’s fine. Joint hallucination. Or maybe I made him think he saw something because I was saying I saw something.”

That would normally be a Tony joke cue, but he just looks at her intently. “You don’t have to make excuses,” he says. “I don’t want you guys feeling…unsafe. Despite the presence of, uh—enhanced individuals. Unnamed.”

“It’s okay,” MJ says, and she looks at Peter and nods. 

Tony looks at him too. And Peter knows that if he said anything about being worried, Tony would move them in an instant.

What the hell did he see? 

Were they really just tired?

Did he think he saw something because MJ thought she saw something?

“It’s okay,” he says, slowly, because…he isn’t entirely sure. But MJ seems sure and Peter doesn’t want to blow up the trip if they were just in a PTSD-addled nightmare. It is their first real vacation since that shit with Beck happened, it still feels like a knife in his gut sometimes.

“You sure?” Tony asks, and he shakes Peter’s shoulder a little bit.

Peter looks at MJ, and she nods at him. 

“Yeah,” Peter says. “I’m sure.”

~

They go back to bed after that without any more incidents, but Peter mostly stays awake, staring off into the darkness. MJ is awake too, through a lot of the night, and they text because Ned is sleeping and snoring like there’s nothing wrong and there’s never been anything wrong, ever.

I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

I wouldn’t let anything happen to you either. Nerd :)

Over breakfast, Tony lets them know that Happy is setting up Friday to do sweeps and is doing his own personal perimeter checks.

“I want him to enjoy his break too though,” Peter says, pushing his waffle around on the plate.

“He’s enjoying it,” May says, through a mouthful of eggs.

Peter frowns at her. “I don’t like that. I don’t—I don’t need—”

She shrugs. “Well.”

“Okay, Miss Kiss and Tell,” Tony says, laughing as Pepper sits down next to him. “But it’s good. He’s on it, and I’m on it too.”

“Here,” MJ says, coming back from the buffet and sitting down next to Peter. She puts a cinnamon bun on his plate, smiling at him. “They just brought them out. Ned is trying to barter for more.”

“They can’t deny him,” Pepper says. “It’s all inclusive.”

“Exactly,” Tony says. “And after last night, we should be getting extra—I still think they sent someone in to check on something and didn’t want to admit it. I’m not gonna go all I’d like to speak to the manager on them, even though I did—do that—but either way—”

Peter hasn’t landed anywhere on it yet. He keeps trying to think back on it, trying to remember exactly what he saw. His spider sense, newly minted, is usually pretty bang on if something isn’t right, if he feels like he’s in danger, but he’d just woken up, he’s foggy in the mornings sometimes—

He figures his mind was just playing tricks on him. But MJ too?

She rubs his leg, like she knows he's agonizing over it, and he reaches down and holds her hand.

“Okay,” Ned says, walking back over holding a plate. “They let me take five of them. They’re all really warm and gooey, I feel like this is a promising start to the day.”

~

Peter isn’t exactly a spa guy, so he doesn’t join May and Pepper when they decide to go there, even though he feels like it might help him if he ever figured out how to relax. But going there is supposed to help him relax, so how can he ever relax enough to get to the point of going there—either way, he goes out onto the lake with Tony and Ned and MJ.

MJ and Peter both get their own kayaks, and Ned and Tony are in a canoe.

“He wouldn’t get into one of these,” Tony yells. “Honestly, if Happy’s not still doing security shit, he’s probably golfing. He’s terrible at it and he never likes to do it when anybody he knows is around. I’ll message him in a little bit and make sure but that’s probably where he is. Ned. You have to keep that thing on just in case we turn over.”

Peter snorts, looking back at them, and he sees Tony adjusting Ned’s lifejacket on his shoulders.

“Happy’s just afraid of racing,” Peter yells, cutting his oar through the water. “MJ remember when—”

“Yes,” she says, a little out ahead of him, and she’s already laughing. “I don’t even know why he was trying to chase you in New York traffic. While you were swinging in the air above him. You didn’t have any cars in your way, nothing was stopping you—”

Peter snorts again, bending over and laughing a little bit. “He was so mad. He didn’t talk to me for a week. He made me talk to Friday specifically.”

“I gave him shit for that!” Tony yells. “He shouldn’t have been trying to chase you. The gas leak had nothing to do with you. He’s always tossing blame around willy nilly.”

“Yeah he still blames me for the time those columns collapsed on that old garbage building,” Ned says. “A line of code can’t do that, that building was old I didn’t do anything there was no way he should have yelled at me at all let alone for twenty minutes—”

“He’s just dramatic,” Tony says.

“He just gets worried,” Peter says, glancing over his shoulder at their boat. And Ned makes big eyes at him, because yeah, uh, they’ve seen why he gets worried. They’ve dealt with why he gets worried. And now, after last night, Peter feels like he’s making himself worried. He needs to stop, they’ve already moved past it, they’re still here, it’s all fine.

“Yeah, I imbued him with a worrying virus that will never be cured,” Tony says. “And now the next generation has to deal with it. Here we are.”

Peter shakes his head, smiling. He’s gotta relax. The sun is shining on the lake bright and beautiful, and May is actually getting a massage for the first time in years and everything is fine. It’s fine. 

He hears Tony chastising Ned again about his life jacket, gently, and Peter starts rowing out and around the outside of the lake. They’re the only ones out here right now, and he wonders how long that’s gonna last. He wonders if that’s something the resort set up, because it’s Tony, because of what happened last night, because Happy’s been intimidating people, and Peter simultaneously appreciates it and balks against the special treatment. But he’s with Tony, he should know it’s gonna happen.

He feels like he’s going a little faster than he should be going based on the way he’s rowing, like he’s really moving along. He glances over at MJ and she’s even further away from him, moving in the direction of the hotel.

“We’re not racing yet!” he yells, and he feels like Happy—constantly worried. But he’s worried about her in a different way and actually starting things with her in Europe made the whole thing worth it in a way, and now they’re together and it’s amazing but he’s just so worried all the time.

And now he’s stopped rowing all together, and he should be slowing down, but he’s still moving. Moving….fast. Maybe even getting faster.

Should that be happening? He doesn’t really kayak. He shifts around a little bit and looks down, and feels a little bit tucked in here. 

“Hey!” Tony yells. “You’re moving like you have a motor on you!”

Peter’s brows furrow, because he is, and he’s not rowing, and he should have lost any propulsion at this point, and he looks up and he sees MJ looking back at him, and she’s not moving anymore, and he glances back and both Tony and Ned look concerned—

And he gets the worst feeling in his chest, like an alarm, like his spidey sense but more warped and panicked, and he tries to get up without toppling over, because the kayak is still moving for no reason, speeding along and it’s going faster and faster. He drops his oar, and balances precariously for a few seconds before he leaps into the water.

Bubbles all around him, and muffled calls of his name—

And he’s only submerged for a couple seconds, because of the life jacket pulling him back to the surface, and he comes up just in time to watch the empty kayak lift up into the air, careening into the forest and disappearing into the trees. 

And he floats there, treading water, staring.

“What the fuck?” Ned yells. “Peter? Peter?”

“Peter!” MJ yells.

“Pete, we’re coming!” Tony yells. “Hold on!”

But Peter is just sort of. Staring. Staring off, at where the kayak disappeared. He stares over there. He stares. 

No thoughts, just. Insane.

“Was that supposed to happen?” Peter asks, his voice squeaking. “Is that—MJ you should probably—you shouldn’t be in there if you’re not, uh, prepared to go—flying—did anybody see it explode? Did it explode? Or did it just shatter, uh, well, wooden—wooden kayak, was it wooden? Or plastic? Either way I bet it’s not a full kayak anymore—”

He feels himself being lifted out of the water, and it’s Tony pulling him into the boat. He doesn’t know how they got here so fast but to be honest a kayak just went full fighter jet on him so he can’t be that confused. 

His shock has him gripped and he just sort of lays there like a rag doll as Tony and Ned pull him up, and he sees MJ rowing over to them. Thankfully, she’s still in her kayak, and it’s not—flying through the air.

“Hey, hey,” Tony says, once Peter isn’t in the water anymore. He’s got both arms around him, and Peter is laying against his chest, and Tony is patting his cheek and trying to peer around and meet his eyes. Ned has his hands on Peter’s knees and he’s just staring at him. 

“I just got a defective one,” Peter says, pointing over at the forest. “It’s okay. It was just—a flying one, we didn’t make sure we didn’t get a flying one. I hope MJ doesn’t have a flying one and it’s just not like. On a time delay I don’t know. MJ, just—hurry over here—” He waves her over. He wants her to hurry up. 

“Peter,” Tony says, and he pats Peter’s chest. “Are you alright? Did you twist anything when you jumped out, can you breathe—”

“Are kayaks supposed to do that?” Peter asks, feeling like he can hear his own voice echoing everywhere. “I didn’t think that was, uh, the case—”

“It’s not the case,” Ned says. “No. It’s not. It’s not the case.”

“Peter.”

MJ finally rolls up alongside them—

“I think you should get out of there,” Peter says, pointing at her. “It’s unsafe—”

“Something is going on,” MJ says, and she’s not looking at Peter. She’s looking at Tony.

~

Tony loves this kid, and this is supposed to be a fucking vacation. Tony loves this kid, and he believed him when he thought someone was in his room, even if the hotel was trying to sway them away from the idea. Tony loves this kid, and he just had to watch him abandon his kayak because said kayak was lifting off and destroying itself somewhere on the property. And kayaks don’t just fucking do that.

Tony stands close to Happy, well into his personal space. He’s got his hands on his hips, like a stern stance is gonna bring him any closer to an answer, and Happy sighs.

“I’ve done ten sweeps,” he says. “There’s nothing going on. There’s nobody here that isn’t supposed to be here. We even looked at the remains of the goddamn kayak and I didn’t find anything wrong with it.”

“There was something wrong with it,” Tony says. “It was flying. It was flying, speed wise, without Pete even rowing, and then it was flying, literally, after he had to abandon ship.”

“I know. It was in a million pieces.”

Tony sighs. They moved down to the Grove Lodge after it happened. Nobody told Pepper and May why, because Peter was insisting on not telling May, and he was also insisting on not leaving even though Tony wanted to leave, because if they left then they were leaving danger behind for the poor unassuming Mohonk guests. And if they leave, danger will probably follow them anyway, and Tony doesn’t know what move to make. 

He’s upset, because this was supposed to be a relaxing break for all of them, but especially for Peter, after everything he’s goddamn gone through. He’s upset because this place felt like his place, his haven, a place where he could get away and be secluded and safe, and now something is pursuing them here. Something is trying to hurt them.

“You haven’t found anything?” Tony presses. “Nothing?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Happy says, and he glances back at the front door of the lodge again. “I’m still looking, I’m not giving up, and I think we should be better located down here because we rented out the whole house and I told them not to come in for room service or cleaning or anything. I know we lose the nice high-up view—”

“It’s fine,” Tony says, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s afraid to even be discussing this in public. Anybody could be anywhere listening.

He doesn’t like feeling like he can’t protect these kids. 

“It looks like they’re targeting Peter,” Tony says, as quietly as he can. “And I can’t tell if that’s because of me, that they think—I mean the whole goddamn world thinks he’s my love child at this point, thinks May is my secret mistress or the sister of his secret mother, God knows, I don’t know what the most recent story is. But I can’t tell if they’re targeting him because of me or because of the other thing—”

“And the other thing is worse—the spider thing—”

“I didn’t specify on purpose, Hap,” Tony says, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Right, right—the innocuous other thing—”

“We’re lucky we got out of Europe with the other thing intact—”

“Yeah,” Happy says, shaking his head, and Tony wishes he had been there with him, had been there period. He would have torn Beck in half had he laid eyes on him. 

Why do they always target people he loves? Why not him? Blow him up. Kidnap him. But he guesses he’s been there already. He guesses they’ve done all that and it’s old hat to these assholes to go to him directly.

But this could be about Spider-Man too. There could be people that know who he is. People always find out, no matter how hard Tony tries, and Peter has made plenty of his own enemies. His own gallery of rogues looking to take him down.

“Just don’t tell May, if she asks,” Tony says.

“Oh, and don’t tell Pepper either?” Happy asks, in that stupid voice he uses to make fun of Tony. Tony glares, and Happy glares back. “They know by now something’s going on. They’re not dumb. They’re just not saying anything. But May will beat someone to death with anything she can get her hands on and so will Pepper, so maybe we should be sticking close to them.”

Tony sighs. “I just wanted—”

“I know—”

“And now—”

“I know,” Happy says. “We’re on it. We know it’s real, now, even if these people won’t cop to anything. I’m in their walls. Literally. Maybe I’m doing some things I shouldn’t be.”

Tony steps up onto the porch. “Don’t even tell me.”

“I won’t. But maybe I am.”

~

“Ned, why are you in here while I’m in the bathtub?”

“She’s in here!”

“I’m dating her.”

“Wow, that’s great,” Ned says, not making any move to get up from his spot on the gold lounge chair. “That’s great, I see how things are going. I see what direction we’re heading in.”

Peter scoffs. He warmed up a long time ago, and he’s getting really pruny, but he doesn’t want to get out just yet. He feels like something is gonna happen if he gets out. Like it’s all gonna start up again and maybe the house is gonna explode or their fridge is gonna grow arms and start trying to fight them or something. 

And he isn’t lazy. He’s always ready to fight.

Maybe he’s a little lazy. But not usually. He thought Europe was gonna be a Spider-Man free trip and look how that turned out. And he thought this was going to be calm and relaxing but now it’s become suspicious. And worrying. And he’s torn between leaving and staying and telling May and not telling May and he doesn’t know if she’s in danger too and sometimes he feels like everybody would be safer if he lived out in Alaska somewhere and nobody knew him.

Peter sighs, and MJ rubs his shoulder. Ned is still giving him that look and Peter ignores that look. He’s never been in a little claw-foot tub like this before. Tony doesn’t even have these in the compound. And a bubble bath? He hasn’t had a bubble bath since he was a kid and Ben was still alive. It almost distracts him from… whatever the hell is going on here.

“We’ve got two more days,” MJ says. “And we’re sticking it out.”

“We’re sticking it out,” Peter says. “I got my webshooters, I guess I’ll wear them if we go hiking tomorrow.”

“Someone is gonna push you off a cliff,” Ned says, raising his eyebrows. 

“We’re all going together, so nobody is gonna push anybody,” MJ says. She leans down and presses a kiss to the corner of Peter’s mouth. “Okay let’s leave so he can—get out.”

They both get up, and Peter watches as they argue.

“Oh, you’re not gonna help him?” Ned asks.

“Oh, you’re not?” MJ replies, nudging him as they move towards the door. “I thought that was your job, guy in the chair—”

~

They have dinner in the main building, and Peter watches his back. He only jumps once, when someone drops a tray full of plates, and he winces at the shattering and runs over there to help clean it up before they usher him away. They visit the horses in the stables, and Peter checks every nook and cranny to make sure somebody isn’t hiding in there. They watch May and Happy bust into the late jazz class that’s going on in the ballroom and Peter forgets to do anything because he feels like his face is going to catch on fire from all the blushing.

And he remembers to be paranoid when they get back to the Grove Lodge, and he can tell May is suspicious and they’re all watching him like hawks and he gets worried that Tony is the real target of whatever is happening here and he’s just a distraction. 

He can’t let anything happen to Tony. He can’t let anything happen to any of them.

Or maybe nothing is happening. And nobody was in their room. And the kayak was just—Parker luck. Too much strength, or something. 

He wakes up around three in the morning because he can’t stay asleep, and he sits down in the ‘great room’ and stares out into the darkness of the night. 

“Don’t jump,” Tony’s voice says, but Peter jumps anyway, twisting around and seeing him on the stairs. “You jumped! I said don’t jump! You heard me, I said it—”

Peter snorts, shaking his head. “You can’t just tell me not to jump and expect me not to jump—especially if you’re stepping out of the shadows—”

“There’s no shadows,” Tony says, stepping off the landing. “No shadows. I’m fully illuminated—”

Peter sighs. “You can’t sleep either?”

“Nah,” Tony says, walking over quietly. “Sleep and I, we have a very contemptuous relationship.” He shakes his head. “I just feel like shit because you can’t have a normal vacation. Whatever the hell is or isn’t going on here. You just deserve—Jesus, a full day, at the least, without something happening you have to question.” He sits down next to Peter and lets out a sigh.

“It’s not your fault. At all.”

“I mean—it might be. We’ve seen Europe as an example of very much my fault.”

Peter narrows his eyes at him. “That wasn’t your fault either. You know it wasn’t your fault, idiots blaming you for their own stupidity is not your fault—”

A huge crash outside. It sounds like one of those big weird planters falling over and knocking into the other planters and then it sounds like a bunch of feet shuffling and this isn’t Parker luck, this isn’t a hallucination, this isn’t a kayak doing non-kayak like things—

They both leap out of their chairs. The noises don’t stop and Tony is immediately stepping in front of Peter and holding his arm out, as if to shield him.

“Kid, go back upstairs—”

“No,” Peter whisper-shouts, grabbing his arm as the two of them move forward very, very slowly towards the back porch doors. “You almost died recently—you’re wearing pajamas and a house coat—”

“You don’t even know what a house coat is—”

Another crash, more skittering feet, and Peter focuses—he can hear separate heartbeats from the hearts he loves in this house. Two of them.

“Tony I’ve got my webshooters on—”

“That doesn’t matter you’re wearing pajamas too you’re not prepared—”

And when they’re just close enough to open the door, there’s a flash of bright white light. And Peter closes his eyes against it, and he can feel Tony turning around, trying to block him from it, and it must be more than just light because he hears a loud bang and the windows are shattering and it feels like a cataclysmic boom is pushing them through the air. The two of them fly backwards, and hit the far wall, and the last thing Peter hears before his head snaps back too far is 

GOD DAMMIT ALFIE YOU’RE TWO SECONDS TOO EARLY WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS JUMPING THE—

~

Peter gasps awake. His gasp echoes, and he sits up, and looks around, and he’s…nowhere.

He scrambles to his feet. He’s alone, and he’s nowhere, there’s nothing but blackness and his ears are popping like he’s high up and he sees—

He sees—

A kayak? Flying through the darkness? 

He watches it, cascading like a majestic bird, and he stares at it, and then it just—blinks out of existence. Like it was never even there.

Maybe he’s just dreaming. Maybe he never even woke up and went downstairs and talked to Tony. Maybe none of that happened at all. Maybe he’s still asleep and Ned is snoring somewhere and MJ is saying not beets in the salad in her sleep again and maybe—

God dammit, Alfie, I swear. I swear I’m gonna whack you in the head.

Peter spins around, in the complete darkness. He can see himself, his own body and his hands and his pajamas and his webshooters, like he’s got a spotlight on him. “Hello?” he calls. “What the hell is—whoever that is—”

And then the London Bridge appears huge and massive above his head and he starts to duck, nearly collapsing in on himself, and there’s no way this is actually happening this isn’t real and he shoots a web at it and it goes right through it and it hits—somewhere—somewhere in the darkness, it sticks, it—

ALFIE I THINK THEY’RE BOTH—

I KNOW IT I CAN TELL OKAY I’M NOT MORONIC—

It clicks in Peter’s head. This is someone using Beck’s tech. It’s someone using Beck’s tech. That’s what this is. This is some idiots using his tech and not knowing how to use it properly and—

Peter starts yelling. “Whoever you are, you’re—you’re not good at this—this isn’t gonna work out for you—”

The bridge disappears, and Peter starts running. His spidey sense is going berserk, and he can’t tell where the danger is, what direction, how far. He can’t tell what’s underneath his feet, it feels—crunchy, and a little old, maybe? All he knows is he needs to get the hell out of this illusion. It feels unstable.

He starts shooting his webs everywhere, and most of them fly away without hitting anything, and that makes him wonder where the hell he could be with so much space—

STARK IS DOING SOMETHING WITH HIS AI—

Peter’s heart lurches.

“Tony!” Peter yells, still running, and he holds his hands out and tries to find something, anything, and he shoots webs fucking everywhere, and then—

SHIT—

He runs right into someone. And they push him off, and then he gets a brass-knuckled fist to the face before he can get a hit off of his own. He stumbles backwards through the sharp pain, wrestling with the instinct to just fight even though it’s only darkness all around him and he can’t see who the hell he’s fighting with. 

Instead, he spits out a line of blood and keeps running.

Pulsing, face pulsing, beating with ripped skin and metal—

A massive kayak blips into the air briefly, and then it disappears.

Peter narrows his eyes, shaking his head, and what the hell is with the kayak—

He runs smack into something, like a train going accordion against a wall, and he stumbles backwards again, clutching at his crushed nose and trying to stay on his feet. The punch and the goddamn running into whatever that was has him dizzy, has him mangled and seeing stars in this manufactured darkness and then he hears Tony hollering his name at the top of his lungs—

“Peter! Peter!”

He sounds like he’s behind him—

“Tony!” Peter yells, all nasally. “Tony! Hey I’m over here—”

He turns around, changing his trajectory. And the darkness blips, breaking in large pixels, and Peter keeps running towards Tony’s voice and the darkness blips again, turns bright white, and then—

The illusion, or lack of one, breaks all at once, and Peter can see—

He’s on the roof of the main Mohonk building—he can see the lake, and the forest, and the mountains, settled in the calm of the night that feels decidedly not calm for him in particular, and he skids to a halt because he’s nearly running off the roof—

And he feels someone grab his arm and tug him back, and he spins around and it’s Tony, thank God it’s Tony—

“Hey!” Tony yells, and Peter looks at him and grabs his arm and they both look up and—

There are just two guys standing there. Two guys, both on the shorter side, definitely unkempt, and they’re holding a little gray box and they’re both just hitting it and hitting it and hitting it—

Peter aims his webs and just starts shooting. He feels like he shoots the most amount of webs he’s ever shot. The two guys fly backwards and get stuck to one of the upraised red parts of the roof, and they’re both gritting their teeth and trying to get out like they’re Scooby Doo villains.

“They must be associated with Beck,” Peter says, trying to catch his breath. His entire mouth tastes like blood. “They’ve gotta be.”

“I figured, with their shitty illusion attempts,” Tony says, and he sounds angrier than Peter’s ever heard him. He glances at Peter, starts to glance away, but then he looks at him again, fast, his brows furrowing severely. “Jesus Christ, you’re—bleeding everywhere—”

“Yeah, it feels—it doesn’t feel good—they didn’t hit you?” Peter asks.

Tony takes Peter’s chin gently, tilting his head and wincing. “No,” he says. “They didn’t goddamn hit me—”

“Well, the nose was from—running into something—I think that, uh, I think that’s a chimney over there, I think I ran into it—you didn’t run into anything—”

“No, I didn’t—”

“Oh, that’s great—”

Tony looks like he’s about to breathe fire, and he lets go of Peter and starts stomping towards the webbed bad guys.

“Why the hell would you be loyal to a moron like him?” Tony asks. “Beck? He couldn’t even keep a job at Stark Industries—”

“Yeah, buddy, because you stole his idea,” one of them hollers. They’re both still wiggling around, trying to get out.

Tony sneers. “He worked for my company executing an idea I designed and commissioned and decided to weaponize it when it was created to help deal with trauma and mental health—have you never had a job, an occupation—you know what, I don’t care, I don’t care—”

“Well he didn’t say that, he didn’t say any of that exactly,” the other guy says, the one with the longer hair. “He just said—”

“Nothing he says is true,” Peter yells, wincing when he touches his nose. “That guy is a liar, and a freak, and you believed him enough to follow us on vacation and—screw up every attempt you made to kill us—it was one of you guys in my room—”

“No, that was just testin’, that was just—we was just testin’, it was—you guys acted really dramatic—”

Peter scoffs. “Dramatic?”

And the two guys start giving each other nasty looks, even though they’re webbed shoulder to shoulder. “Maybe if you hadn’t dropped that dart gun in the lobby when they first got here—”

“Maybe if you hadn’t fallen out of the tree—”

“Maybe if you had made the goddamn kayak explode instead of fly—”

“Stop!” Tony yells, cutting his hands through the air like an angry teacher. “Stop. Stop. I’ve never wanted to hear Boston accents less. Stop. You’re arrested. We’ve arrested you.”

“You can’t do that, the Avengers aren’t cops,” the shorter one says. He’s got a tattoo on his neck that says GOLDBARES with a Haribo bear icon and Peter squints at it and he feels like his entire face hurts worse just from seeing it.

“You’ve committed several crimes,” Tony says, still pointing at them. “It’s—my personal security already—”

There’s a click. A very loud click. And both guys clam up real quick.

“What was that?” Tony asks.

Peter’s spidey sense is—ratcheting up, clear into his teeth—

“Tony!” he yells, because it feels like something is coming, and, just like in the Grove Lodge, there’s a big boom and they’re blown backwards by a seismic wave—

And they’re launched off the roof, and it feels like they’re moving in slow motion, through the dead dark of the night and the reflection of the lake, and Peter screams like a moron. He just screams, and then he shoots a web right at Tony and pulls him in with it, and then he shoots a web at the building and swings back around with him. 

They don’t land well, because Peter’s brain is on the backburner and there’s nothing on the front, and they roll in a heap, Peter tucking his face into Tony’s shoulder. When they come to a halt Tony pulls back, sitting up and touching Peter’s cheek.

“You in there?”

“I’m in there. Here,” Peter says, and he feels like he’s bleeding worse, somehow. “Did they blow up? Did those guys blow up? It sounded like they blew up.”

“We didn’t blew up we’re still over here but maybe I wish we woulda blew up because—”

And they start shouting at each other, but Peter tries to tune them out.

“Thank God you brought those things,” Tony says, tapping Peter’s wrist. “Thanks, bud.”

Peter blows out a breath, shaking his head and still just. Laying there. “Oh yeah, no problem. All good, just—completely normal.”

Tony sighs, and his eyes cut to the side. “Any other late traps ready to explode?” he yells, over his shoulder.

They stop arguing with each other. There’s a brief silence. 

“Uh. I honestly got no idea. We just brought the whole bag of tricks, I don’t know. There’s shit everywhere.”

Tony looks at Peter, slowly shaking his head.

“Fantastic,” Peter says. “Wonderful.”

~

“So, you weren’t in there watching us when we were getting our nails done in the spa?” Pepper asks. “I thought it was weird. I told May it was weird. That was these guys—”

Tony scoffs, and he feels like he instantly gets a headache, a migraine—

“Of course I wasn’t—of course—you thought I was just standing there? Staring at you in the spa? You didn’t think that was out of the ordinary—”

Pepper gives him a look, and Peter laughs from the hammock behind them.

“Yeah, when I went to get my nails done later you kept walking in and out,” Happy says. “But I thought you were just—I don’t know what I thought. But then you told me about the kayak thing later and I thought—well—I attributed it to that.”

“Happy went and got his nails done,” Ned whispers, somewhere behind Tony, too. “We could do that?”

“Who’s stopping you?” MJ says, quiet.

“Well, the whole—the whole situation stopped me, I guess, but I didn’t really think about it—”

“I’m glad it wasn’t you staring at us,” May says, standing near the railing and peering out into her binoculars. “Pepper said it was normal, but it was concerning me.”

Tony glares at Pepper, but she just bats her eyes at him like the picture of innocence.

“Sometimes Peter does that to me,” May says. “Just stares at me from behind a Lucky Charms box in the kitchen. That’s how I know something’s wrong.”

Tony snorts, and he turns around as soon as Peter starts protesting.

“I do not!” Peter says, shifting around in the hammock. “I do not do that.”

“It sounds like something you’d do,” Ned says.

“You’ve done that to me,” MJ says, clearing her throat.

Peter huffs, and everyone laughs at him, and Tony tries not to laugh too hard, because this started with his own wife acting like she thinks he’s capable of acting like some weirdo who stands around staring at people.

Tony sighs. He turns around, walking over and peering down at Peter. He braces his hand on the tree his hammock is attached to. “How’s the nose?” Tony asks.

“Broken.”

“It’s not broken anymore, we reset it.”

“It knows it was broken. I know too.”

He’s still got the butterfly bandages on the bridge of his nose, and it’s bruised and angry looking. He’s got a burst blood vessel in his eye, and the white part is dipped with red. Tony feels like shit because he got out of the whole ordeal relatively unscathed. Just a few bumps and bruises. Some whiplash. But Peter broke his nose again.

They hiked up to the Sky Top Tower, and the kids wanted to hang out once they got up here. They all thought Peter had earned the hammock. Happy refused to come, and he’s in charge of the security situation, anyway, so he couldn’t exactly abandon it to do a hike he didn’t want to do. 

They had to clear the whole damn resort out to get rid of any remaining traps and illusions. Tony had to bring in a whole team. Rhodey made fun of him on the phone when Tony told him, laughing for a good five minutes.

And sure, it’s stupid. Those guys are stupid and they had no idea what the hell they were doing, they couldn’t even attack properly. But that’s what happens when stupid people follow more powerful stupid people. They hold grudges. They make up shit in their heads. They cause problems.

And it’s never really funny when Peter is bloody at the end of it.

“I feel like I’m sinking,” Peter says, his brows furrowing.

He reaches out his hand, and Tony takes it, and he pulls him out of the hammock as MJ and Ned push on his shoulders. Peter groans like he’s a hundred years old, and Tony claps him on the shoulder.

May looks away from her binoculars. “How you doing, honeybunch?”

“Fine,” Peter says, letting go of Tony’s hand. “Incredible. Amazing.”

“Just a normal day for a hero,” Pepper says. “MJ, you’ll get used to it, May, you’ll never get used to it—”

“And Ned,” Ned says to himself. “You will be there every step of the way.”

Tony looks at Peter, and he wants to apologize. For all of it, for being a hero at all, for the goddamn radioactive spider at Oscorp and everything that came after. For stupid morons like Quentin Beck, who know the quickest way to hurt Tony is to attack this kid he’s nearly adopted as his own.

He doesn’t know what the hell to say, because Peter wouldn’t accept his apologies anyway. He never would. Peter is just appreciative of every moment. Even if the moments aren’t ideal.

“We’ve got the whole place to ourselves,” Tony says. “How about we have a pie bar when we head back down there? I can tip the kitchen staff two hundred percent when I ask. I don’t think anybody would be pissed off.”

He sees May smiling softly at him over Peter’s shoulder. Trust in her eyes, even after all this bullshit.

“Can there be…at least four key limes?” Peter asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Four or five,” Tony says, ruffling his hair. “Or six or seven. Depending on the number of ovens in the joint.”

Peter grins at him, still bright and lively, despite everything.

Maybe they can salvage this vacation yet.

[jinxquickfoot]

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: Trying Not to Cry

Find the fic on Ao3

“Morning, Boss.”

Kate’s tone is chipper. Upbeat, happy, top-o-the-morning chipper. Clint definitely isn’t going to suspect that a single thing is wrong.

Clint squints up at her over the coffee he’s just poured. “What’s wrong?"

“Literally all I said was good morning.”

“Uh-huh.” Clint’s eyes travel down to the Daily Bugle clutched in Kate’s hand. “Good read?”

“No, actually.” Kate hastily balls up the paper, lobbing it towards the trash. It bounces off the rim. “It was so boring that I’ve forgotten what I read.”

“Kate, you just missed a shot from three feet away.” Clint moves to pick the paper up.

“No, don’t! You don’t want to read that.”

Clint takes her in again, then relaxes. “What is this time? That archery is a ridiculous superpower? That I’m the most useless Avenger? That no one knows why I was even on the team to begin with?”

Kate tries to distract him as Clint starts to uncrumple the paper. “All of which would be cleared up if you agreed to do just one interview.”

“I don’t waste time on reporters. Never have, never will.” He succeeds in unfurling the pages. “Kate, I've been hearing that kind of stuff for years. Jesus, I agree with half of it—although not with the Bugle, everything that comes out of Jamison’s mouth is garbage. So don’t bother trying to spare my feelings, at this point I just ignore…” He trails off, finally finding the page that had slapped Kate in the face that morning.

“It’s fine,” Kate says, too quickly. “Like you said, garbage.” Her voice cracks on the last word, and Kate has never been more embarrassed in her life.

Clint slowly lifts his head from the article to her face.

“Just forget it.” She’s not going to cry about this. She’s not. “I have.”

She hasn’t. The words are seared into her.

The world is approaching a new generation of superheroes. From arugula green lawyers in California, to a rather womanly Thor sighting in Norway, to what some are calling a controversial and nepotistic choice of Captain America’s successor, to a brand new Iron Man struck down too soon in the form of Quentin Beck, it seems we do not need to fear a lack of superheroes in our future—whatever their quality may be.

The world has come a long way from the first battle for the planet in 2012, when six unlikely heroes gathered to rid New York of aliens. While it may be a relief to some that their titles are passed on, others—this newspaper included—argue that it is time for some mantles to be retired, if they ever should have been held to such high esteem in the first place.

Residents of New York would have spotted a purple-clad archer in their midsts over the Christmas period. The vigilante responsible for destroying the beloved Rockefeller Christmas tree has been identified as Kate Bishop, nepo-baby of Bishop Security, whose stocks have plummeted after the arrest of its CEO, Eleanor Bishop, in December.

While it may be comforting to hear that the younger Bishop is not planning to follow in the footsteps of her criminal mother, her other choice of career must be called into question. We are in the heyday of superheroes, from Captain Marvel to Doctor Strange, with powers beyond reckoning. Is this really an appropriate environment to be resurrecting the Hawkeye name? A bow and arrow versus the cosmic forces of time and space?

‘Superhero’ is now the number one job aspiration of anyone under eight years old, and it is tempting to believe that we could all put on a silly costume and run around saving the day from otherworldly monsters. And with a lack of scientific genius or enhanced abilities, it seems Bishop has reached for the easiest to imitate Avenger and given it her best shot. However, unlike her namesake, she is not hitting the bullseye.

With multiple counts of destruction of public property, the daughter of a known associate of Wilson ‘Kingpin’ Fisk, and an extremely superfluous choice of mentor to boot (really, what does Hawkeye even do when he runs out of arrows? Stand around and wait for the rest of the heroes to do the actual work?), perhaps it is time for Bishop to leave the play-pretend game to the children, and allow herself to grow up.

Clint is still watching her. Kate turns beet red as she feels him take in the tiny quiver of her lip, the way she knows her eyes are overbright and shiny.

Then he’s moving. “Stay here. I’m going out.”

“Where?” Kate demands.

Clint downs the rest of his coffee, then scoops up the entire pot for good measure. “Out.”

“You’re not going to the Bugle,” Kate protests. “You just said you don’t talk to reporters!”

“I’m going to talk to one today.”

“No, you’re not, don’t even worry about— Clint. Clint!”

But Clint and the coffee pot are already gone.

It’s hours before he comes back.

Kate’s curled up on the couch with Lucky, watching some rerun of a show she doesn’t particularly care about. She’d expected to finally cry the second Clint had left her apartment, but the tears hadn’t come. It’s as though they’re sitting in a block in her chest, weighing her down, refusing to shift.

The front door finally clicks open, Clint shucking off his rain-soaked jacket as he carefully places a now empty coffee pot by the shoe rack.

“So,” Kate calls from the couch. “How was your first time talking to the press?”

Clint’s answer is to lob a sheaf of paper across the room, where it lands perfectly on the coffee table next to her. “A copy of the article they’re running tomorrow. Page seven.”

Kate picks up the newspaper, scanning the first few opening lines before she tosses it away. “So you went down to the Bugle, pulled out your I used to be a very scary assassin act, and forced Jameson to write something nice about me.”

“I thought about it,” Clint admits. He makes his way over to the armchair opposite her, sinking into it with a relieved sigh. “But as tempting as it was, no.”

Kate frowns over the new article. “Then how—”

“Well, I started by pulling up the footage of you rescuing that cat from the burning building last week. And then I gave him the number of that couple whose bakery you stopped from being robbed on Tuesday. And then I called in a favour with a certain superhero in Hell’s Kitchen to remind Jameson just what a big deal it is that you took on Kingpin, alone, and won. Among other things. Why do you think I was gone all day?”

That block in Kate’s chest finally feels like it’s thawing. “So much for the press not mattering.”

Clint shrugs. “It doesn’t. And I can’t promise that you won’t have to get used to the constant jabs about why a non-powered human with a paleolithic weapon is running around with Avengers. And maybe those quips about being superfluous or whatever were true for me, but they are never going to be true for you.”

Kate’s lips twitch. “Well, you’re biased.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

Kate fiddles with one of Lucky’s ears. “You’re not superfluous, Clint. If you hadn’t been at the Battle of New York, my mom and I would have died. A lot more people would have died.”

He offers her a smile “Well, lucky I was there then. No one else could possibly annoy me into wearing a costume.”

“If your branding was on point, maybe they wouldn’t be throwing around words like superfluous in the first place.”

“No, they still would.” Clint seems entirely unbothered by the idea. “That’s not what I care about. What I do care about is when they make my partner cry.”

Kate ducks her head. “I didn’t cry.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

“It wasn’t just…” Kate pauses, clearing her throat. “All that stuff they said about me, that wasn’t fun. But I was actually more upset about what they said about my mom. Because maybe what they said about me is just opinion, or whatever, but what they said about her. It’s real.”

“I know,” Clint says softly. “But it’s not the whole truth. Like how she did it all to protect you.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Clint clasps his hands together. “I know I’m meant to be flying back to the farm tonight, but I can stay.”

“I’m fine,” Kate says quickly. “Go back to your family. I pull you away from them enough.”

Clint considers her for a few more moments. “Or,” he offers. “You could come with me. The kids would love to see you.”

Kate pictures a weekend at the Barton farm, cooking with Laura, shooting a bow with Lila and Cooper, reading books to Nate. A little break to be around family for a while. “Do you get the Bugle delivered out there?”

“I can promise that we absolutely don’t.”

Kate sits up straight, making Lucky wag his tail at the potential for a walk or a snack. “Then a weekend at the farm sounds perfect.”

[intelligentmiinds]

   Peter, on his fifth glass of sparkling cider, crying as he faintly sings Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper.

[hughiecampbelle]

Imagine Quentin telling the world who you are:

#webelievemysterio

The tag was everywhere. In the news. Social media. Graffiti. Your nightmares. The crowds were screaming it outside of your home. The reporters asked you about it as you were led to a black car by the FBI. Quentin Beck had ruined your life, he set it on fire and watched it burn. He was doing it beyond the grave, too. Now you, your family and friends, were all being interrogated. You were being called a killer. A villain. Everything was happening so fast, there was no time to react. No time to think. You couldn't believe it. All the hours you spent patrolling the neighborhood, looking out for everyone, trying to make a name for yourself like all the other superheroes had. All that work disappeared, that trust and friendship shattered, because of some delusional, revenge-obsessed maniac.

You knew Peter was going through the same thing. You knew he'd been arrested as well, questioned, trying to prove his innocence when no one would listen. But you couldn't talk to him. You couldn't call or text, they were watching, and it would have looked unbearably suspicious. No matter what you could have said, they'd use it against you. They'd find a way. So, you kept your distance, looking for any sign of him, his thoughts, anything. Eventually you'd get to talk about this. You'd get to laugh about this one day, in the far-away future, about how ridiculous this all was. For now, you were being talked to by some lawyer, writing down every word he said. It was helpful, but not enough to change things. Not enough to take this all back.

You needed something more. . . .

[love-peterparker]

In Extremis || Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: After the reveal of Spider-Man’s secret identity and the release of Quentin Beck’s murder video, there isn’t a lot going right for Peter Parker. But he has you. 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, protests and rallies, mentions of murder, a gun that is never shot, and some hair description for Y/N for plot purposes (but it should still be generic enough).  

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: I’m first a Captain America and Agent Carter fan, and I wanted to recreate what makes their relationship so special, but with Peter and Y/N… ‘cuz I also love Peter Parker. I really loved writing this, and I hope you enjoy it.

Also, thanks to @marvelouspeterparker, @sinisterspidey (she actually has a blurb called I’ll Follow You and it builds off of Spider-Man’s identity reveal) and @stuckonspidey for answering my anon asks for general writing tips and Peter’s character. And @spideyspeaches with her kind words after reading one of the final drafts of this fic. Lastly, a special thanks to @peterbenjiparker encouraging me with this fic and for making me so emotional with her series Invisible String (Read this!... but only if your heart can take it) that I needed to write something. This story has nothing to do with it, but it does make some small generic references to her fic, and I would like to think that Y/N and Peter are soulmates in this story.

***

This takes place in a universe where a FFH-esque identity reveal happens when Y/N and Peter are young adults.

***

This fucking city didn’t deserve him.

Peter rarely admits it, but you say it all the time. When you hit a dead end in the Avenger’s database. When checking for your gun before leaving another safehouse. When reaching for him in the dark of night.

This fucking city didn’t deserve him.

It had been over a year since Peter’s identity as Spider-Man was revealed and the dubious video of Quentin Beck’s murder was released. But it felt like a lifetime.

These two Peter problems were like ivy. They rooted, twisted, and spread. Winding into chokeholds around their victims.

But heroes knew how to play with fire.

Peter’s identity was dealt with in a straightforward fashion. Plenty villains who would do anything to exact revenge on Spider-Man, but they would have to find Peter Parker and identify his loved ones first. And for someone like Peter? Well, it was going to take some time.

To you, Peter was lifegiving. A shining ray of golden hope. You fell to sleep and rose to press kisses into his face. To cherish and hold. To share tears. But to the world, or even New York City? He was a nobody, one who couldn’t even hold a steady job.

You all worked fast while the wicked played catch-up. The Avengers searched and wiped all, but ultimately little personal information Peter had on the internet, as well anything that might connect him to your shared inner circle. Everyone was given an Avenger’s signal watch. And both you and May opted to move as a precaution. May to Brooklyn. You to Avenger’s Tower.

The case of Quentin Beck’s murder was a much more grinding process. Through polished superhero reputations, the lawyers secured an Avenger’s Tower house arrest during court proceedings. An overwhelming amount of evidence in Peter’s favor was gathered. Press conferences were held. Speeches were given. And when it all seemed like it was too much for too long, you and Peter would lie in bed, arms and legs entangled, whispering that everything would turn out all right. Good will win. You just had to keep going.

It was taxing, but not impossible. And just when you all thought you were pulling at the end of the thread with the jury in your favor, the ground beneath you crumbles into nothingness. You spiral and crash into a labyrinth, lush and high-walled. Maybe this was the way out- oh wait, you’ve been here- or have you? You all turn and turn only to face a new dead end. A new set of incriminating videos were released. Spider-Man’s videos took the spotlight, but videos of Wanda and Bucky were also revealed. The streets of New York bustled in whispers.

Can we really trust these heroes? What if these videos are the truth?

And what happens when these powerful people think they are right when they are wrong?

When public protests against Earth’s heroes sprouted and jury members started to disappear, it was clear that the whoever or whatever was behind this had greater motives and powerful allies. It was time to buy time.

Everyone had tried to convince Peter to go into hiding somewhere else. Anywhere else. He had enough super-friends where anywhere was possible. Lay low while everyone else above ground scrambled to unweave this massive web of lies. But Peter was infuriatingly adamant that New York, regardless of her wavering loyalties, was his to protect.

So two months ago, he started bouncing around New York City, investigating when he could, and making polarizing headlines with every swing he took.

You tried to continue as if Peter was still by your side. After being terminated from your junior journalist job for “suspect ties to Spider-Man,” Spider-Man became your mission. You originally attended press conferences and rallies as moral support, but after Peter’s first awkward mumbles of a speech, it was painfully clear that he needed a new voice. The public herself needed a normal person who interacted with superheroes. Who better than Spider-Man’s girlfriend? But after the last kidnapping attempt and the Avengers’ numbers shrinking, it was clear that this wouldn’t last. The world now knew who you were too.

The thick ivy had caught up, and you were on fire.

But to hell with it because there was no universe where you would be leaving this nightmare without him. So the next time you looked in the mirror, you donned short red hair and heavy eyeliner.  

Days were spent questioning possible witnesses. Nights were spent in the light of a computer. And when you could barely drag yourself to continue, moments were spent staring at your beautiful boy’s picture. He needed you.  

You had only heard from him twice since he went into hiding, though there were a few times answered unknown number calls would lead to abstract rustling and distinct web shooter noises. To those, you always whispered “I love you,” before hanging up.

That was until last night, when you noticed small slip of paper in the crack of the window of the safehouse you had been staying at. Only a time and an address were written, in messy, but undeniably Parker script.

You spent the next day visiting arbitrary places in the Bronx, trying to determine if anyone was following you and collecting items in an unsuspecting backpack.

It was a balancing act between comfort and practicalities. An extra stealth suit. A waterproof jacket you both shared. Protein bars. Extra web fluid and a first-aid kit. A hefty wad of cash, just in case. And in the smallest pocket, things to help him in the darkest days to come. Letters from you, May, Ned, and your other friends. A few packs of gummy bears. And a picture of you and him, laughing in Central Park on one of your many dates. Sunlight casting halos on your heads. Bright. Carefree. Brimming with love.

Your heart cried and cried and cried, begging for those days.

But they were gone. And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, so were the people in that picture.

You travelled to the building location and made your way to the rooftop. Rows and rows of white sheets were hung, all whipping in the wind to dry.

A small smile graced your lips. You had to hand it to him. He was smart.

You folded yourself into one of the corners of the rooftop, gun in hand and waited. Eerie silence slowly lulling you to…

You woke up to the soft footsteps, sleepy eyes registering a shadowy figure behind one of the bedsheets.

“Hans?” you whispered, pointing your gun with a finger on the trigger.

“Leia,” the figured replied, equally hushed. The shadow lifted the curtain. It took a second to register, but it was really him. You raced towards each other, quick hold each other, beaming. Today, you existed in the same place at the same time.

“That was so stupid. I can’t believe you got me to do that,” you laughed, pressing your face into him, holding him tightly as if he could disappear at any moment.

“Oh, come on, you loved it!” he quipped. You hummed in appreciation.

“True, but I love you more.” His eyes brightened at your confession, pink dusting his cheeks.

“I know.” You shook your head, smiling at his response before turning your head and taking in who he had become. Gone were the luxurious curls, replaced with a buzzcut. A pair of fake glasses perched on his nose in further attempts to conceal his identity. Hallowed eyes. His skin tinted gray from the stress. You ran your fingers through the fuzz on his head, massaging his scalp. A sigh escaped his lips, eyes fluttering shut, with hands reaching to caress yours.

“You cut your hair.”

“You did too.” His fingers danced in the ends of your own tresses. A sad smile furnished your face.

“It had to be done,” you replied, before pressing your lips to his cheek and gently removing yourself from his embrace to get your laptop. “We need to get started. We’ve found a lot since you left.”

With his head on your shoulder, fingers laced with yours, and your laptop on your lap, you recounted the on-going investigation to him. The deep web that just kept going and going. Your theories and suspects. And when that was done, you kept talking. How Aunt May and his friends were fine but missing him. How the remaining Avengers were fairing. Peter was oddly quiet, sharing only a few thoughts here and there, but you attributed it to his weariness.

As the sun continued to dip, the silences between sentences stretched, but you mustered more words. As if your sentences were the delicate string that grounded him to you.

“Y/N,” he interrupted. You looked at him and hummed in reply. He began playing with your fingers, eyes never meeting your own. “I love you more than I ever I thought I could, and I’m really thankful for everything you’ve done. And you’ve done so much. Like, I don’t know if I would have even made it this far without you, but here you are, and well, you can’t keep doing this.” You cocked your head, before shaking your head, hair rustling.

“What? Peter, we are getting somewhere! I just need to visit the-“ He lets go of your hand, fingers clenching into trembling fists.

“No, no more visits. No more investigating. This can’t be your life. When this started, we thought there was a way out. But it’s been over a year. Clearly whoever or whatever is doing this won’t stop until we’re all gone. This may never stop. I can’t have you throwing away your life for me. Hell, I don’t even know when I’ll see you aga-“

“Peter,” you cut him off, your voice pitched lower in concern, “Where is this coming from? We’re gonna make it. It is just a matter of-”

“I can’t give you what you deserve! I’m Spider-Man, so we don’t get to have a house and two kids! We get this-, this fucking disaster! I live like this because I have to. I don’t get a choice. And you shouldn’t be stupid enough where you are doing the same thing!”  

Your mouth fell open, ready to spit back poison when he looked at you. It was in his eyes. Behind the falling tears and redness was the glint of insecurity that Peter had always carried. This was the child whose parents died. The teenager who didn’t stop his Uncle Ben from getting killed. Who held Tony Stark in his last moments. The man who was on the run.  

The hero who would never stop giving to a world who would never stop taking.

Your thoughts frenzied. If you held on to him too tightly, he would resist. The more he would thrash, determined to save you while slowly sacrificing himself until there was nothing left. Your brain was frozen, so your heart gave you the words-

“Marry me.”  

Peter’s eyes widen before retracting into a tight furrow, scrunching his nose.

“What?! No! Did you not hear anything I just said-“

“I’m not leaving you. I will never leave you. The one thing you never get to doubt in the world is us. So, I’m gonna ask you again; will you,” you took his hand, went to one knee, and let your voice soften as you held his gaze, “Peter Parker, marry me?”  

You both bathed in silence. His chocolate doe eyes boring straight into yours, searching for truth. The thought that maybe you had gone about this the wrong way started to crawl into your mind, but then a smile slowly creeped onto his face, bright red with blush. More salt-water pooled in his eyes. He pulled you into a near lung-constricting embrace, smothering wet kisses into every inch of your face. Mine. Mine. Mine. You could practically hear his thoughts as you basked in each kiss. I missed you. I love you. And oh my god, you’re here to stay.

“What did I ever-, I have no idea know what I ever did to ever deserve you.” A smirked formed on your lips.

“Is that a yes?” The gold stars in his eyes shined at your playfulness. There was the man you always loved.

“Yes, yes, oh god yes. I do, Mrs. Parker,” he said pulling you in for a passionate kiss. And you both stayed there, melting into the ground beneath you. Breathing each other in as moments passed. Tender “I love you’s” flowing generously from both of your lips. As if the world had vanished and all that existed was you and him, and him and you, and this understanding that this, this was a love until death do you part.

Peter was the one to break the string of kisses, leaving you to chase his lips before touching his forehead with your own. His breath hot on your face. “I- , if you go to my lab there is a secret compartment. In my desk. The code is your birthday. I was going to ask you myself, but then, well… this.” You chuckled as he stumbled on his words.

“I’ll get it as soon as I can.” You both leaned in to close the gap again when a cacophony of sirens and lights echoed in the streets below.

Frustration filled Peter’s eyes as he sat up. “Shit. I-, I gotta go. Are you gonna be okay?” You let out a shallow breath, but quickly forced a smile.

“Go get’em.” And with the whip of his webs, he was gone.

You sat there for a moment, taking in the new quiet. Your fingers graced your lips, still warm with the memory of his. A lightness had settled in your chest, and with every breathe you could feel it pulse stronger.

Because no matter what it took, no matter how long the wait, there was two things for certain.

He was going to protect the city. And you were going to save your husband.

[waitimcomingtoo]

25 To Life

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peter deals with the repercussions of his identity being revealed

Masterlist

It all happened so fast.

That's what Pepper and Tony’s legal team told to say.

That it all happened so fast.

You didn't see it. You didn't hear it. You can't make out a face. You have no idea who would do this, Officer.

It all happened so fast.

For you, it seemed more like slow motion. You weren’t there to witness Mysterio’s death. Peter had told you Mysterio tried to shot him but ended up shooting himself. That’s what you were told and that’s what you believed.

But the video told a different story.

It was all there: Mysterio saying Spiderman had gone crazy, Spiderman ordering everyone to be executed, and Mysterio dying. The video made it seem like the London drone attack was the work of Spiderman, but you knew the truth.

Right?

To the media, Spiderman had gone rogue following Tony’s death and killed Mysterio. To the media, Spiderman was a murderer.

And to the public, Spiderman was Peter Parker.

You watched the screen, paralyzed with shock, as your boyfriends identity was revealed. You dropped the remote, not bothering to look back as the batteries flew out and hit the ground, and ran to Peter’s apartment. 

The cops arrived Peter’s apartment the same time you did, baracading the entrance with their cars. All the flashing lights and sirens made you sick to your stomach. There were officers everywhere, some talking amongst themselves and others turning the nosey public away. Did they really think your Peter did soemthing that warrrented that many officers? You dodged a few officers by the doorway and snuck up the fire escape to climb into Peters window. He and May were already in there, faces pale and haunted. May locked the window behind you and quickly drew the shades. You approached Peter slowly like he was a frightened animal, just in case he was skiddish. As soon as he saw you, Peter ran to you and threw himself into your arms in a desperate search for comfort. You combed your fingers through his hair to soothe him as his body shook with terror. He cried into your shoulder, his tears seeping through your shirt within seconds. You whispered comfort in his ear until his sobs became silent. 

“You have to get out of here. I don’t want you to see this.” Peter sobbed as he cradled your face.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You shook your head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But the video.” Peter whimpered. “It looks like I killed him. People are going to think I’m a murderer.”

You laid his head back on your chest and shushed him. You didn’t have to heart to tell him that people already thought he was a murderer. He didn’t need to hear that. He just needed comfort. 

“My identity is out. They’re gonna arrest me.” Peter sobbed. Before you could respond, there was a heavy pounding on the door.

“NYPD. We have a warrant. Open up.”

Peter held you tighter and you backed up towards the closet together. You clung to him, hiding his face from view and looked at May for help. 

“It’s all right, kids. I’ll go talk to the police. Stay here.” May said calmly. You shared a sympathetic look before she left the room. You held Peter tightly and kissed every part of him that you could reach as he shook with fear. 

“It’s okay.” You whispered as you fought back tears of your own. “It’s going to be okay.” 

You clamped your hands over his ears, not wanting him to hear what the police were saying and began to sing to him softly.

You knew Peter was innocent, but that video was incredibly convincing.

And incriminating.

How were you going to explain it to the cops? 'No sir, it wasn't Peter. Mysterio pretended to be a warrior soilder from another planet and gained Peters trust so he could pretend London was being attacked by a giant smoke monsters using special sunglasses called EDITH. Peter didn’t kill Mysterio, you see, Mysterio projected a fake version of himself using a drone and shot it on accident when he tried to shoot Peter. No, there’s no evidence of this. Yes, he was invisible when Peter grabbed the gun. He knew he was there because of his Peter Tingle, silly. Can't you tell?'

Is that what you were supposed to say? They would never believe it.

“Please, be gentle. His uncle was shot. He’s scared of guns, please.” May was hanging on the arm of one of the police officers as they burst into Peters room. You and Peter looked up fearfully as three police officers pointed their guns at you, clutching to each other for dear life.

“Peter Parker, you are under arrest for the murder of Quentin Beck.” An Officer stated as she pulled you and Peter apart. You and Peter reached for each other until only your hands could touch, crying out for each other the whole time. Peters hands were brought behind his back as an officer handcuffed him. You  were restrained by an officer and squirmed in the his embrace, kicking and writhing to break free as you screamed Peters name. He was lead out of the room, locking eyes with you the whole time until he was out of sight. May followed them out as she wiped the tears from her face, pleading with them to be gentle. The room fell silent, the only sounds coming from the police sirens, slowing fading as they drove to the station. 

You lost time from being at Peters house to arriving at the station. The car ride with May was silent as you tailed the police car Peter was in. Once inside, you were lead to a winess interrogation room and May was brought to the chief. You bounced your leg up and down as an officer went over the day Mysterio died, barely listening to what she was saying. The florescent lighting of the room made you feel nauseous as she questioned you.

"Can you tell me what happened?" The officer looked up from her notepad to look at you. You came back into yourself and blinked a few times.

“No, I'm sorry.” You said robotically as you smoothed your hand over your leg to keep it from bouncing.  “It all happened so fast."

-

They held Peter in a cell until the day of his court hearing to determine his sentence. You sat next to May in the courtroom and tried to follow what the Judge was saying, a lot of legal jargon was spoken that frustrated you when you couldn’t understand it. Your eyes drifted to Peter, who looked exhausted and frightened in his baggy orange jumpsuit. He made eye contact with you gave you a weak smile, rasing his handcuffed hands to wave. You both jolted out of your gaze when the judge banged his gavel.

"I hereby sentence Peter Parker 25 years to life for the first degree murder of Quentin Beck.” The judge spoke. The silence in the room was so deafening that your ears buzzed and rang. Officers arrived to handcuff Peter and take him away as surprise murmurs emitted from the crowd. You felt paralyzed as Peters terrified eyes met yours.

And then everything happened so fast.

You remembered standing up and screaming.

You remembered saying he was innocent, that he was framed.

You remembered May putting her head in her hands and sobbing as she lost her last family member.

And you remembered Peter looking back at you and mouthing that he loved you before they lead him out of the room.

Everything else was a blur.

-

You visited Peter the first day you could.

“Inmates are allowed two hugs; one on arrival and one when leaving.” Rang over the loudspeaker every five minutes.

It took a few weeks to get your name added to his visitors list. The judge had tried Peter as an adult, so he was put in minimum security federal prison to serve his sentence. You sat and waited at the table for Peter to come, looking around at the other inmates to distract yourselves from your nerves. Everyone was separated by a small table, some people with little kids on their laps and some alone. You smoothed your skirt for the hundredth time and rubbed your lips together.

Peter was lead into the room by a guard, his face lighting up when he saw you. He walked over to you and threw his arms around you and you hugged him tightly. His orange scrubs were rough against your skin as you buried your face in his chest.

"No contact." A guard barked and he jumped out of your arms. You gave Peter a sympathetic smile and sat down.

"How are you?" You asked despite his appearance telling you that the answer wasn’t good. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, with his eyes sunken in and his skin pale. His uniform was ill fitting, unless he had lost a lot of weight.

"I'm getting by." Peter nodded, both of you knowing it was better if he kept the truth to himself.

"Are the people here nice?" You asked hopefully.

"This is a federal prison, darling." He said shortly. You realized it was a dumb question and gave him a tight smile. Your fingers twitched, desperate to hold his hand but not wanting to get him in trouble.

"I know. I just hoped you had found some friends to protect you." You nodded and looked down. Both of you could tell how awkward it was between you. Neither of you were your usual selves, as you were guilt ridden and Peter was exhausted.

"I'll be okay.” He said, and neither of you knew if it was true. An uncomfortable silence returned and you kept your eyes down.A small smile tugged on your lips as you got an idea.

“Excuse me, guard?” You piped up and looked at a correctional officer. “Could you tell me what time it is? I can read the clock from here.”

Peter looked at you in confusion as his eyes darted to the watch on your wrist. As soon as the guard turned around to look at the clock, you leaned across the table and gave Peter a quick kiss. He smiled shyly as you quickly sat back down, pretending nothing had happened.

“12:34.” The officer answered you and you gave her a tight smile. You cocked an eyebrow at Peter and he chuckled for the first time in weeks.

“How are you holding up?" He asked you and you shrugged.

"I haven't been sleeping well.” You answered honestly. “I'm just so worried about you."

"I know." He said simply. He had no way to assuage you, and you knew it.

"We’re doing everything we can to prove your innocence.” You assured him and Peter fake you a fake smile. “All of us. Scott, Rhodey, Sam, Banner, May, everyone. Even Bucky is trying to help. Maybe there's a way to tell the cops about your Peter Tingle without them thinking we're crazy."

You looked so hopeful that it pained Peter. He reached for your hands and took them in his before he did what he came to do.

“No contact.” The guard repeated and Peter stared at him for a long time. He retracted his hands and folded them on his lap, swallowing thickly as he composed himself. 

"You don't have to do that, Y/n.” Peter said quietly. He knew what this was, what he was about to do.

This was the calm before the storm.

"Yes we do.” You blinked in confusion. “You're innocent, Peter. You shouldn't be in here."

"Maybe I should be.” Peters voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “Baby, I killed Beck. I moved the gun. That’s why it hit him. And I’m the one who gave him EDITH in the first place. Who knows what else he could've done. What if he killed you too?” Peter whispered in pain.

“This isn’t your fault, Peter.” You shook your head stubbornly. “And as soon as the police realize that, they’re gonna let you out of here. I promise, the second you’re free we can go right back to the way things were. We can be together and we’ll be happy again.” You smiled hopefully. “But until then, I'll visit you every single day, from the start of visiting hours to the end."

You thought he’d be happy, but Peter looked pained by your statement.

“Whats wrong?” You worried when he didn’t look like your plan.

"That's not a good idea, Y/n.” He said softly. “You can't spend everyday waiting for someone who isn't gonna come home. You need to get on with your life.” He said abruptly. You were taken back by his response and let out a nervous laugh.

"What are you saying?"

Peter looked at you for a moment and his bottom lip began to tremble.

"I'm saying you need to forget about me.” Peter stated as tears came to his eyes. “Go find another boy. Someone who isn't in prison can be there for you when you need him. Marry him and start a family with him. You can't wait for me to get out of here, Y/n. That day might never come." He cried. You looked at him in bewilderment and tried to process what he had said.

"What are you talking about? I don't want another boy. I want you.” You sputtered as you leaned forward on the table to really look at him. “Only you. I'm going to wait as long as I have to."

"I can't ask you to wait 25 years." Peter shook his head sadly.

"You're not asking. I'm making the decision by myself." You snapped.

"That means you'll have to wait 25 years to get married and have children. You probably won't even be able to have children at that time." Peter reasoned.

"So we'll adopt." You shrugged in dismissal.

"Is that really what you want?" Peter asked skeptically.

"No. But I want you.” You said definitively. “That's all that matters. If you can wait 25 years, so can I."

"But I don't have a choice." He reminded you.

"But I do.” You sniffled. “And I choose you.“

"Our only interaction will be these short meetings. I'm not even allowed to touch you.” Peter cried. “Don't you think you'll fall out of love with me?"

You reached out to wipe his face but a guard shook his head. You balled your hand into a fist and slammed it on the table. 

"Of course not. How could I? It's you.” You laughed sadly. “Every single time, it's you. You’re the only one I’m ever gonna want, Peter.”

Peters face scrunched up as he cried and looked away. He couldn’t look at you when he knew he was hurting you.

"Y/n, you're making this impossible." He sobbed and sucked in a sharp breath.

"Please don't do this, Peter.” You begged.

"You know I love you. So much." He said sincerely.

"Then stop breaking me." You whispered.

"I'm so sorry, but I have to do this.” Peter protested as he slammed his fist on the table. “I can't have you wasting away while you wait for me to be free. I got 25 years to life, baby.” He whimpered. “That means I'll only get a chance for parole in 25 years. And even then, they could deny me and keep me in here. Everyone has seen that video of me. That’s enough evidence to keep me in here as long as they want, even if it’s fake. I'm never getting out of here.” He shook his head. “Just because my life is over doesn’t mean yours has to be over too. There’s still a chance for you, angel.”

“I could never be happy without you.” You cried, fingers twitching as you fought the urge to reach for him. 

“Yes you can. And you will.” He decided. “I can’t let you die unloved. You need to forget about me. Guard!”

It all happened so fast.

You were escorted out of the visitation room, kicking and screaming Peter’s name. He was lead away by a correctional officer, mouthing that he loved you before he disappeared behind a wall.

For the next four years, you went to that prison every week.

And every week, Peter refused to see you.

The guards stopped asking for your name eventually and who you were there to see.

They knew why you were there.

It became somewhat of a routine. They'd call the guard outside Peter’s cell and ask if Peter wanted to see you, Peter would say no and you would go home. He thought that by not allowing you to visit him, you’d eventually move on.

He was wrong. 

You never did move on. Even after Peter was killed in prison by Adrian Toomes after four years of being locked up, you didn't move on.

You asked the guard how an inmate could be killed in a prison full of guards. The guard answered simply, "it all happened so fast."

At least he's free now. At least you can visit him.

Even if all you were visiting was a grave.

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona​ @foreverxholland​ @damnyoudameron​ @lavender-writer​ @captainmandeestudent17​ @whatareyouhidingpeter​ @takenbyheartstrings​ @ultrunning​ @imyourliquor-youremypoison​ @theolwebshooter​ @andreasworlsboring101​ @guksmyfav​ @waiting-to-be-myself​ @letsloveimagines​ @peterparkoure​ @a-villain-vying-for-attention​ @justcallmehitgirl​ @averyfosterthoughts​ @jackiehollanderr​ @tiny-friggin-human​ @celestial-skylines​ @mara-twins​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @spideygirl2003​ @the-crazy-fanfictionist​ @maryjanee23​ @spacebitch2 @geeksareunique​ @emmamarshmellow​ @jillanaholland​ @unbelievableholland​ @rebekkah4766​ @flixndchill​ @sovereignparker​ @wendaiii​ @thisisthebiplace​ @spideydobrik​ @every-marveler-ever​ @undiadeestos​ @caelestii-e​ @eridanuswave​​ @itscaminow​​ @fiantomartell​ @solarxmoonchild​ @where-art-thau-romeo​ @canyouevencauseicant​ @illwritetomorrow​ @thehappygrungelife​ @saysomethingspiderman​ @parkerboop​ @smilexcaptainx​ @hes-amarillo​ @quaksonhehe​ @kelieah​ @silteplaittais-toi​ @kickingn-ames​ @purefluff​ @seasidecrowbar​ @lovelessdagger​ @love-sick-blues​ @electraheart-3174​ @lou-la-lou​ @unbelievableholland​ @yourtypicalhotmess​ @ohnothezombies​ @spideyanakin​ @horanxholland​ @thesuitelifeofafangirl​ @anapocalypseinmymind​ @gninwodacrie @quacksonfics @marshxx @themmmelissa

[professional-benaddict]

i'm so excited for drug raid pt 2!

part one here!! eeee took forever before I got around to part two bUt here it is!! I hope y'all like it xx

Cop Tony, paramedic Stephen, 18+ Little Peter, Littles are known verse, police raids, drug dealing, illegal drug use, referenced forced drug use, referenced kidnapping, past abuse, withdrawal, hospitalisation, whump, angst, comfort, 1.5k

The next day, Tony waltzes into the hospital with a latte in his hand. Still riding the high of the raid from the night before, the cop feels at the top of his game. He and the rest of the department have the upper hand. The evidence and statements keep pouring in, and it’s all in their favour, which means not so much in the drug dealers’ favour. It’s their third successful raid in just two months, and yet this feels different. The stakes feel higher, and Tony feels like he should be here taking the Little’s statement. He was the one who found him after all, abused and forcefully drugged at the hands of the drug dealers, and on top of it all he was manhandled by an overly excited SWAT guy. Perhaps the SWAT guy had an aggression problem. He wouldn’t be the first. 

Tony’s intentions feel more pure than that of the SWAT guys, at least to him, and he likes to think that that was why Fury let him come take the Little’s statement out of all the other officers. To be honest, he likes the kid. He’s intrigued, and not just professionally. Tony doesn’t exactly know what it is, but he’s giddy while waiting in line at the reception to find where his informant is. 

“You can just go wait in the car if you want, honey bear.” Tony teases to Rhodey, who’s with him at the hospital. They are partners after all, and they go everywhere together. Well, maybe not everywhere since Rhodey actually takes him up on the offer, muttering something about his overly sensitive nose and the antiseptic smell of the hospital being a perfect mix for a headache. Tony waves him off and tells him to get out of there before he gets cranky. 

The receptionist is not able to tell Tony exactly where Peter is, but directs him to the neurological wing where they can show him where the Little is. So, Tony heads up and tosses his empty latte cup on his way there. After some more waiting and flashing of his badge, Tony is escorted by a nurse to see Peter. 

“He’s going through withdrawal, and quite badly too. Don’t stress him out, okay? You can always come back another time.” The nurse informs while they walk through some automatic and lockable doors. 

“How long is he gonna be here?” 

“Till the withdrawal wears off, but the doctor is planning on having him on psych hold when the withdrawal is over. The Little’s handle it the worst, you know? He’s having awful nightmares and suicidal thoughts already. Poor babe…” The nurse adds sadly. 

“Yeah…” Tony agrees quietly and steps a bit to the side to let a transporter pushing an empty bed pass them in the hallway. A bit further down the eggshell coloured hallway, the nurse stops and gestures to a door. 

“I’ll just head in first and see how he is.” The nurse smiles and slips through the door, leaving Tony to wait in the hallway alone. 

The cop resists the urge to look through the window in the door. Just what kind of shape is Peter in? Last time Tony saw him he was unconscious after a seizure. It’s almost unheard of that Littles take drugs, precisely because they can hardly handle it. Their vulnerable bodies cave in at the smallest doses, while a caregiver like Tony could take triple the dose and still get up the next morning. And that is why Littles are never legally punished for drug possession, and instead they are put into treatment to get rehabbed. Some might say that is the same as prison, if you think about the principals of each setting. Limited freedom. And yet there’s a major difference. Tony isn’t here to arrest Peter, only talk to him. 

A few moments later, when Tony is about to give in and peak in through the window, the nurse exists again and invites the cop in. The hospital room is quite sad, actually. There’s signs of attempts to make it Little-friendly, but the poorly drawn and creepy cartoon dinosaur has the opposite effect that what was probably intended. The hospital bed is Little proof though, with side rails going all around the bed to keep the patient safe. And Peter does look safe, but also absolutely terrible. 

The big, brown eyes go wide when he lays his eyes on Tony, and the cop stays back a bit. The nurse comes forward then and guides Peter to lay back again when he tries to get up. The boy’s movements are clumsy and shaky. Tony guesses he is experiencing muscle aches and fatigue. 

“No, no- I don’t- I didn’t…” Peter stutters and looks pleadingly at the nurse. The cop tries to ignore the feeling of being assigned ‘the bad guy’ role, even though he has not said a word yet. He wouldn’t be surprised if the drug dealers brainwashed the boy to never trust cops, or anyone else outside their gag for that matter. Just another manipulation tactic to keep him in check. As if forcefully drugging him isn’t enough. 

“Shhh, honey bee. The police office is just going to speak to you. It’s all right.” The nurse coos. 

“I didn’t wan’ to do it. They forced me, please…”

“I know, sweetheart, I know. That’s what the officer is here to talk to you about. Just tell the truth and everything will work out, okay? You can push the button anytime and Amanda or one of the other nurses will come, okay?” 

And with that the nurse takes her leave, but not before whispering to Tony to take it easy. The officer nods and thanks her, then turns to the boy on the bed. 

He looks absolutely terrible, that much is obvious. It looks like Peter is hollow inside, and that his skin is just a facade made of the thinest paper. It the wind where to blow, it might just take Peter along with it. But, Tony knows he is not all hollow inside. The boy’s eyes are pained, and it looks like he is aching to tell his truth, to get everything that is inside out into the world and to someone who can do something. Something to save him. And Tony wants to do precisely that, and so he sits on the chair next to the bed with a soft smile. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi…” 

“I’m Officer Stark, but you can call me Tony.” The officer starts. “You’re Peter. What’s your full name?” 

“Benjamin Parker. Peter Benjamin Parker.” 

“Benjamin, huh? That’s cute.” 

“Is’ after my uncle.”

“Is he around?” 

“Dead.” The Little deadpans, fiddling with the hospital blanket. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Tony says sincerely. “Do you have any other family around? Someone we could call?” 

“No- uhm, they all dead. But, Beck took me in.” 

“Quentin Beck? Right.” Tony sighs a bit. Quentin Beck, as in the Beck who is now in custody at the station. They are still putting together the bigger picture and hierarchy of the gang at the station, but it seems like Beck is in the middle there somewhere. And it seems like Peter is very much in the middle of it all too. “Tell me what happened, from the beginning.” 

Peter talks for over half an hour. The boy is so detailed in his descriptions, like he has a photographic memory, that Tony barely has to ask follow up questions, and instead listens as carefully as he can while noting down some key words in his notepad. Sometimes, the boy has to pause to catch his breath or stop himself from crying, but by the end of it the tears finally spill over when Peter starts describing how Beck and the others would drug him against his will. At one point, the boy’s crying is so pained that Tony reaches out to hold his hand. Peter clutches back, like Tony is his anchor in the storm that is his emotional and psychological turmoil. The Little definitely needs to be on psych hold. 

In the middle of Peter’s cry, a nurse knocks on the door and enters with a concerned look. She must have been altered due to Peter’s heart rate picking up due to the crying. 

“Is everything all right here?” The nurse asks, giving Tony a look. The officer feels like she is accusing him of going too hard on the Little. Once again the bad guy. 

“Is- is okay, Amanda…” Peter hiccups and dries his tears bravely. He forces a smile at the nurse when she comes over to check on him. 

“Okay, sweetheart, but I think this is enough for today. You need to rest.” Amanda orders kindly, and once again she gives Tony a look. Getting the implied message, Tony rises from his seat and tucks his notepad, now his very precious notepad, into his jacket. 

“I’ll come back another time, then.” The officer says. 

And Tony does exactly that. 

tag list: @petersmocha @garcia-reid-lovechild @stressedboyinprogess @ikneelbeforemygod @sugar-and-spice-parker @robynofthestars @pastel-parker-bitch @tightaroundthewebshooter @puppypeter @carttorchdeatth @starkerplusstrange @starkermoodboards @smits-stuff @honeybunstarker @xsmallplum @everyonelovespetey @ihonestlydontevenknow @baly0110 @velvetjoker @starkerparkerstark @allaboutthatshowmanlife @itsrachael @holographic-starker @bisexual-spiderling @liesversusjoy @littlespaceofyaoi @spanglesandstars @avengerscollection @bennywantstogotosleep @goldenmogar @justanotherfandomthot

[cinebration]

By My Rules (Quentin Beck x Reader) [Part 14]

Plan B.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Epilogue  

Warnings: assault with a deadly weapon

Gif Source: cinemagal

“I need you to tell me what happened.”

Alyssa Margrove fidgeted in her seat, her face drawn and apprehensive. Hands wringing the tissue in her lap, she struggled to compose herself, tremors rolling through her.

You scrutinized her quietly, checking for the right signs to push on ahead. The woman sniffled once, a visible shudder wracking her body, and kept her eyes averted, staring at the carpet without seeing.

“Alyssa,” you coaxed quietly, “you can’t move past it if you don’t acknowledge it.”

Inhaling shakily, Alyssa nodded. Stuttering, she began, “Yesterday, I went home at the usual time. I have a cat to feed, you know. I walked in at around six-thirty and set my bag down on the kitchen counter. My kitchen is almost right off of the front door.”

Meaningless details, you thought, but you nodded your head encouragingly.

“I didn’t take my heels off at the front door, because I was distracted by some work Fury wanted me to remember to do tomorrow—today. I had forgotten to write it down, so I kept repeating it in my head until I could find a piece of paper.” Alyssa inhaled shakily again, the tremors shaking her with increased violence. “That’s when I noticed that Suzie, my cat, hadn’t come over to harangue me for dinner. She always does that. She only hides when other people are in the house.”

Alyssa froze, letting the statement hang in the air as she relived the previous night’s events.

You knew what had happened, but you patiently waited for her to speak it aloud.

“Before I could do anything about it,” she finally said, her voice strained, “he was in the kitchen. He had a gun, and he was…it was scary to look at him. Not because of the gun, but because he looked so…unhinged. Like he could shoot me if I sneezed funny. He just stood there, staring, and I thought, ‘Maybe I can run for it.’ The front door wasn’t that far away, and I didn’t lock it when I entered. I was too distracted.”

She trailed off, staring hard at the floor.

“Did you run?” you prompted.

Her head nodded jerkily. “I turned around and ran, but the heels…”

“He caught you?”

A stifled sob. She nodded again.

“Then what happened?”

“He put the gun in my face, and he kept babbling on about something, I don’t know what. I was screaming. I couldn’t hear him. But then he yelled at me to shut up or he’d shoot me.” She pressed a hand to her forehead, as though trying to push back the floodgates of her tears. “Then…then he demanded I tell him where Peter Parker was.”

“Peter Parker? Why would he care about him?”

“Because he’s that Mysterio guy!” Alyssa shouted it as though it were obvious. “The guy from London.”

“I thought he died.”

“Apparently not!”

You let the silence, punctuated by Alyssa struggling to regain control over stuttering sobs, run for a few moments before asking quietly, “What then?”

“I told him I didn’t know. He didn’t believe me. He kept saying he knew I knew. I work for Director Fury. I should know everything, he kept saying. And the gun…” She shook hard. “He pressed it here”—she ghosted over the space between her eyebrows—“and he kept pressing, and it hurt. It felt so cold and it hurt.”

The sobs took control, deep-chested things that wheezed out of her with force. You leaned back in your seat, watching her with disinterest—forcing yourself to cut off any part of you that felt sympathy or empathy for her. You had sent Quentin after her for this very scenario. In any con, people would get hurt. Best not to dwell on it.

“Alyssa,” you said soothingly, “how did you get free?”

Choking on her sobs, Alyssa managed to say, “S.H.I.E.L.D. showed up. I don’t know how they knew, they just did. And they took him away.”

The agents had shown up after an anonymous phone call had placed Quentin in the vicinity.

A phone call made by you.

A block away, you had watched the nondescript vehicles round the corner with Quentin in the backseat of one.

Plan B.

~~

A week after Quentin’s arrest, you were summoned to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. Dressed in a monochromatic pantsuit, your hair up in a bun with a pencil stuck through it, fake glasses perched on your nose, an attaché case in hand, you entered the building and signed in with your fake name. The security guard handed you the Visitor badge and escorted you upstairs via the elevator to Fury’s office.

Fury was already waiting. You barely exchanged a glance with Alyssa at her desk before Fury barked at you to enter the room.

The office was exactly as expected: Spartan, devoid of feeling. You glanced around once, quickly, to satisfy your curiosity before approaching the desk.

Fury did not ask you to sit. Regarding you with a hard, penetrating stare, he let the silence stretch to the point of discomfort.

You reveled in such silences. Meeting his gaze with an unflappable one of your own, you stood tall, unwavering in posture or position.

“Miss Bellamy,” Fury said abruptly, “do you know why you’ve been called here?”

“I can hazard a guess.”

“No hazards, please. You’re here because we need a psychiatrist of your ilk.”

Arching one shapely eyebrow, you waited for him to continue, not giving him the satisfaction of flinching at the use of the word ‘ilk.’

“Your reputation precedes you, and you’ve been working with some of our agents recently.”

“Am I being asked to work with more of your agents?”

He eyed you sharply. “No. We have something different in mind.”

“Are you aware of my rates?”

Fury burst into harsh laughter. “That’s your concern.”

“I know the value of my expertise. I am not surprised to be invited here.”

Nodding soberly, Fury waved his hand. “Yes, you’ll be paid at your rates. Sign this.”

He tossed over a packet of paper. Glancing at the title, you recognized it as a nondisclosure agreement. Perusing the important passages quickly, you signed the NDA and tossed it back to him.

“Come with me,” he said, leading you out the door.

~~

The space overlooked a verdant park behind the building, tall windows letting in warm mid-morning light. The room had been converted into sleeping quarters, as evidenced by a cot with mussed sheets against the far wall. Clutter occupied the floor around it and atop a nearby metal desk: old electronics, papers, a backpack sagging off the back of the desk chair, nearly disgorging its contents onto the floor.

“This lady’s here to see you,” Fury boomed.

From the ceiling dropped a figure. It landed before you, rising quickly to its full height.

“Hi, I’m Peter.”

[stories-sometimes]

I’ve Made A Huge Mistake {12/12}

Peter Parker x Reader, Quentin Beck x Reader

Summary: Peter just wanted to enjoy his trip to Europe, maybe even confess his feelings to his best friends.But along came a mysterious new hero to ruin those plans. Peter and his class are aged up and in college.

Warnings: smut

Word Count: 1847

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

This is technically the last chapter, but I will be writing a few drabbles to go along with the series, if anyone has any requests.

Around a week later Peter and her were safely back in New York, laying together on his dorm room bed. Beck had been arrested and Fury and a legal team were working adamantly to form a case against him. They looked into him to find his past at Stark Industries, along with slowly revealing the team he worked with. William and Victoria had been arrested and were cooperating on a plea deal to uncover the full extent of Beck’s plans.

But for now, the pair were cuddling, comfortable in their pyjamas watching Ferris Bueller. The daisy necklace was still sat on her chest, the same place it had been she’d gotten it. Peter stared down at her, relieved she was safe. She looked more relaxed than she had been since London, simply caught up in the enjoyment of the film. Eventually, she felt his gaze, flicking her eyes up to meet his.

“What?” She smiled.

“I’m in love with you.” He confessed without thinking. Her face switched instantly, softening in a confused way.

“What?”

“I’m sorry, I, I shouldn’t have said that.” He backed away from her. He felt absolutely terrible, she was in a vulnerable position and Peter in no way wanted to take advantage of her. “You can tell me to fuck off if you want, or go away or anything. I’m just sorry.” He stood up, stressing over what he’d just done.

“Why would I tell you to go away? This is your dorm?”

“Cause I was one who just fucked everything up.”

“Do you mean it?”

“I-I,” He could make up some lie, some excuses, something to try to get him out of this situation. But he had to own up to his feelings like a man. “Yes.”

“Really?” “I’ve loved you since we were kids. I bought that necklace and I had this whole plan to tell you, but then-”

“Life got in the way.”

“Yeah.” He admitted, running his hands through his hair nervously. “I completely understand if you don’t feel the same way. And if you don’t, I don’t want anything to change. I still want to be your friend, and I-”

“Peter.” She cut him off, pulling his hands out of his hair, holding them in hers. “I love you too.”

“Wait really.” He replied shocked, cupping her face in his hands.

“Yes. I’ve loved you for so fucking long, but I was too scared to say anything. And then I thought you liked MJ.”

“You thought I liked MJ.”

“Yeah, you guys seemed really close and, you know. I got jealous.” She explained bashfully.

“We’re friends, I’ve never liked her like that. And you were jealous of me, seriously. I was always the one who was jealous of all the guys staring at you, not the other way around.”

“Are you really that blind? Do you actually not see how many girls fancy you?” Peter rolled his eyes, blushing slightly, “C’mon, you got that whole hot nerd thing going for you.”

“And you like that?”

“Absolutely, I always go for the annoyingly smart guys.” She joked, “And as much as I want to jump into this, but I can’t right now. I just got so caught up with Beck and that was a fucking mess. And I know if I throw myself into another relationship one of us will end up hurt. I’m sorry.”

“No, no. You gotta do what’s right for you. And I will wait, however long you need, for you to be ready.” She pulled him into a tight embrace, nestling her head in his neck.

“I love you, Peter Parker.”

Six weeks later the two of them sat in the court, waiting to be called to the witness stand. Peter felt ridiculous sitting in his Spiderman suit while everyone else was in formal suits. He held onto her hand to relax the both of them. Each sweating at the thought of seeing Beck for the first time since London. The man was soon dragged out into the room and the hearing began. Beck was being charged for a series of charges, from fraud to the destruction of the cities, right up to the deaths he caused through his malicious plans. She kept her head up, refusing to make eye contact with the older man trying to stare at her. For the most part, she blocked out what was going on during the hearing, not even realising she was being called up to the witness stand until Peter was shoving her up.

“Mr Beck, please describe your relationship with the witness.” The prosecutor asked.

“Well, we know each other very intimately.” He smirked. She clenched her jaw in response, trying to ignore his comment, knowing he was just trying to fuck with her. “We were involved in a romantic and sexual relationship while the two of us were in Europe.”

“And how do you respond?” The lawyer turned to ask her, “Were you complicit within this relationship?”

“Yes, everything was consensual.”

“And considering his character, why would you travel through Europe with him?”

“Because at the time I, like everyone else, believed his story. I got caught up with the idea I had of him.”

“And why did you stay with him after you found out his true character?”

“When I first found out I was alone with him in a foreign country with no way of getting home on my own. I was scared of what he’d do. And later he threatens to kill my friends if I didn’t comply with his plans. Beck was trying to blackmail me into staying with him.”

“And when did you figure out he was lying?”

“I was in a hotel room, unpacking our stuff, and I found illusion technology initially created for Stark Industries within his Mysterio suit. Then I realised the elementals were fake and if that was fake, I thought everything else would be.” A few more questions were asked before she was allowed to sit back down.

“The jury had spoken.” The judge announced a few hours later. “Finding Mr Beck guilty for all accused crimes and will be given three life sentences at a maximum-security prison with no opportunity for parole.” They said before smacking the gabble down. She watched Beck being assorted from the courtroom back to his holding cell. The experience was oddly therapeutic for her. With the truth out there and Beck behind bars, she could truly put this unfortunate chapter behind her. She and Peter made their way back to his dorm. Peter pulled off his mask before turning back to face her.

“We did it,” Peter said, hugging her, “It’s all over now.” She wrapped her arms around her neck, pulling back a few moments later. She traced her fingers over his cheeks, a dumb grin on her face. Within her mouth was on his. It was gentle, but with an underlying passion of years of built-up feelings.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Peter mumbled against her lips, “You sure about this, you’re definitely ready?”

“Yeah, like you said, it’s over.” She kissed him again, walking the two of them over to Peter’s bed, pulling him on top of her. She traced her tongue over his bottom lip. She moved her hand, tracing her nails down his chest and lightly grazing over his groin. Peter let out a gasp.

“So you wanna do it, do it?” He asked nervously.

“Yeah, if you wanna too.”

“Yes, yes. I really want this.” Peter nodded eagerly. He immediately pressed the spider logo on his chest to loosen his suit. She pushed the suit of his shoulders, pushing it off his body. And removing the tight material helped the growing strain in his underwear. Peter slowly unzipped her dress, she raised her hips slightly to help him shimmy the dress off. Peter looked at her body in complete awe. She raised to a sitting position, unclipping her bra and sliding it off before lying back down on the bed. Peter crawled back on top of her, gently kissing his lips, down to her neck and further down to reach her chest. He ghosted his finger over a nipple, flicking his eyes back up to her when he heard a soft moan. “God, I’ve dreamed about this for so long.” Peter whispered.

“I hope I live up to your expectations.”

“This is so much better.” He kissed further down her stomach, loving every inch of her body. He reached her panties, brushing over the lace. “Can I?”

“Please.” She let out breathily. He pulled the thin fabric down her legs, taking her calf in one hand to kiss back up towards her core. Experimentally, he flicked his tongue over her clit. She moaned, grasping at the bedsheets below. Pleased with the reaction, Peter went in again, more confidently. Her back arched as she snapped one hand from the bed to Peter’s curls. A coil built up before Peter finally tipped her over the edge.

“Fuck Peter, feels so good.” She moaned. Peter felt a surge of pride rush through his body. He’d just made the girl of his dreams cum. She pulled him back up, pushing his boxer’s waistband down. Peter helped, shrugging them off, groaning embarrassingly loudly when she wrapped her smaller hand around his cock. “I want you in me.” She whispered in his ear. And that had to be the sexiest thing Peter had ever heard. He pushed into her, bottoming out hastily. They both moaned, gripping onto one another for dear life. He pulled back out more slowly, then thrusting back in. He immediately set the pace, slow, deep and loving. It was the most passionate thing either of them had ever felt. Everything else was completely irrelevant. All that mattered was the two of them in the moment. They were completely immersed with each other. Soon they were both coming down from their highs, wrapping around each other’s bodies.

“I love you so fucking much.” She said.

“I love you too, more than you could possibly know.”

Everything was going perfectly, at least for that night. The next morning she reached over to check her phone, only to see her twitter blowing up.

“Peter, Peter.” She shook him awake.

“What’s going on.” He said, dazed.

“You’re trending on twitter.”

“It’s probably cause of the trial.”

“No, you’re trending, not Spiderman.” Peter shot up at that. They opened the app to see a final interview with Beck. Within it, he revealed Spiderman to be Peter. He dropped his head into his hands.

“I’ve made a huge mistake.” Peter sobbed into his hands.

“Hey, hey, hey.” She said, running her hands through his hair to try relax him, soothe his woes just a bit. “Why would you think this is your fault.” 

“Cause I showed him who I was and I should have -” “We’re going to get through this.”

“You promise.” Peter said between panicked breaths.

“I promise. I’m gonna be right by your side and it’s going to be alright. You haven’t made a mistake.” She reassured him.

“Not with you.”

Taglist:

@cool-ontherun-world 

@eleventhdoctorsangel 

@chubby-tink

@eridanuswave

@squishychar1ie

@sincerely-cronch

@charmed-asylum

@lukesbabylon

@cutie1365

@smilexcaptainx

@tomhollandssecurityguard

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

Us and Andie Ch. 12

Summary: Bucky works as an Avenger because it’s what’s right. He feels he has sins he’ll never be able to make up for, but he’ll spend the rest of his life trying. However, his life takes an unexpected turn when he comes across Andie, the daughter of recently divorced Y/N. The life he had once “maintained” in hopes of surviving changes as his heart warms for a tough-as-nails nurse and her wonderful daughter.

Pairing: Bucky x Singleparent!Reader

Word Count: 3806 words

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

A/N: IGNORE WHAT THE GIRL LOOKS LIKE IN THE PHOTO. I just really wanted to add a visual similar to what her powers look like :) ALSO shoutout to @littleredstarfish​ for the awesome art!!

Everything felt terrifyingly slow – forcing Bucky to realize there was nothing he could do to catch up.

Zemo shooting the gun…

The glimmer of Andie’s skin as she turned visible…

Bucky realizing what was happening…

And then she shimmered again.

The streaks of color reminded him of light reflecting through a gem. It was only moments until he saw her move between Y/N and the bullet. Her body now changed - glowing like a rainbow, and appearing…

Diamond.

The bullet deflected off her chest, hitting Zemo in the knee. He staggered, falling to his other knee. In that moment, it felt like time stood still. Andie’s chest was heaving as her hands trembled. Her foot was coated in blood, the glass shards forced out now that she was in her secondary skin.

Her knees buckled as Y/N turned towards her. She heard Y/N scream her name, but it sounded so soft – as if she was at the end of a long tunnel. Her whole body relaxed when she felt Y/N’s soothing touch and she collapsed. Y/N caught her, holding her close and rocking her. She was still shimmering. Still diamond.

Bucky wanted nothing more than to take Andie and Y/N in his arms and never let them go. But he couldn’t. Not yet. His eyes were transfixed on Andie, completely mesmerized by her powers as he hurried towards Zemo.

“I – Did I – “ The stuttering question made Bucky feel sick. He looked at Y/N.

She looked away from him, kissing Andie’s hairline. “No, baby girl. You didn’t kill him.”

Bucky wanted to kill Zemo then and there. The sound of his breathing made him livid. Winding up his metal arm, he struck hard, knocking him unconscious just as Steve and Sam came in. Sam was offering Steve a shoulder. If the bullet were anywhere else, they knew Steve would walk it off. But the thigh was a particularly sketchy area.

Yet that was forgotten as they saw Andie and Zemo. “Help them,” Steve told Sam, bracing himself against a nearby column.

Sam jogged to Bucky’s side, hand finding his back. “Bucky?”

He blinked, not quite registering that Sam was talking to him. “Quentin – is he?”

“Currently locked in the car. I got Scott’s suit.” Sam gestured to Zemo. “I can finish this up if you…”

Bucky didn’t need to hear anything else. He stepped away from the men, eyes pleading with Y/N to let him come closer. She watched him carefully, but silently nodded, blinking away fresh tears. Bucky crouched next to them, his hand finding Y/N’s back. He mimicked the patterns he saw she was tracing on Andie’s back, not sure what to say. They were all at a loss for words.

Quentin and Zemo were down.

But Ethan was still out there.

-.-.-.-.-

Being back at the compound was difficult for Y/N. She kept thinking about what Quentin had said – how she and Andie were put in that situation because of their friendship with the Avengers. And yet here they were.

She lightly brushed Andie’s hair out of her face, fingers running through her hair. In that moment, she was utterly thankful for the bedroom Bucky and Tony had created for her. The blackout curtains were keeping out the faint light coming from an early morning. It had taken hours for Andie to feel safe enough to slip back to her natural form. And watching her now, Y/N was just happy she had stopped crying.

Every bone in her body was spent, begging for a bed and the opportunity to maybe sleep. But her brain was wide awake, craving the assurance that her daughter was safe. Leaning forward, she pressed a light kiss to Andie’s hairline before hearing the bedroom door creak open.

The tiniest sliver of light threatened to light up Andie’s face. Looking over her shoulder, Y/N’s body went ridged when she saw Bucky’s massive frame. “Hey…” He glanced at Andie, attempting to keep his voice quiet. Y/N held a finger to her lips, standing up and joining him.

Stepping outside, she quietly closed the door and pressed her forehead against the frame. Her whole body trembled as she pressed a hand to her mouth, muffling a sob. Bucky placed a hand on her shoulder, wanting to offer some sort of comfort. She jerked, pulling away from his touch and leaning against the wall. He dropped his hand, pain in his eyes because he wanted nothing more than to hold her. “Um…the others - they wanted to talk to you.”

Y/N nodded silently, adjusting her dress. Bucky’s eyes flickered down to the bruises on her arms, the ones shaped like fingerprints, and his stomach lurched. He should’ve been there to protect her.

But now wasn’t the time to apologize. It wasn’t the time to tell her that he would do anything to take back these past several months. It just…wasn’t the time. And he was far too sure that their time had passed.

So Bucky led her to the debriefing room. It was painfully quiet. As Bucky opened the door, he watched Y/N step inside where Tony, Steve, Sam, and…Everett Ross waited. She was silent, feeling Bucky’s presence behind her. His warmth practically radiated off him, warming her back and providing something similar to comfort.

“I wanted to wait till morning for this,” Tony told her, earning a roll of the eyes from Everett. “But it seems the CIA had other plans.”

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Everette stepped forward, offering his hand to shake. Y/N simply stared. Out of everyone in the room, she looked the most exhausted, the most filthy. “I just want to extend my sincerest apologies for everything that you have had to go through.”

Y/N scoffed, shaking her head as she asked, “Did all of you slip in a nap and shower before this?”

“Ms. Y/L/N – “

“Y/N – “

Y/N closed her eyes, looking away and hugging herself. She didn’t notice the look that Bucky and Steve shared. Exhaling softly, she looked at Everett and told him, with the straightest face, “You can take your sincere apologies and shove them up your ass.”

Sam coughed, covering his mouth to hide the faintest smile. Everett glared at him and he shrugged. “You’re honestly surprised?”

Tony said, “Well, we did offer for her to get a shower, see a medic, get some clothes – “

“Tony,” Steve warned.

Y/N laughed. “Yeah, you offered all of that while forgetting that I have a daughter. She is my primary responsibility. Her feeling safe, her knowing that nothing will happen to her – that is my biggest priority. And do you know how…how sick and twisted and gut wrenching it is to know that the only reason this happened to us was because we…” Tears slipped down her cheeks. “Because we knew you. Personally. We became friends with the Avengers and that put targets on our backs.”

Finally.

Silence. The one thing she wanted more than anything.

Taking a shaky, whimpering breath, Y/N felt herself teeter. She probably should have taken the time to get her head checked on. “Y/N,” Bucky whispered, helping her take a seat. Steve slid a first-aid kit across the table, relieved when Bucky caught it with ease. They didn’t need anything that would make her any more jumpy.

“I can handle that,” she whispered.

Bucky simply shook his head, immediately getting to work on cleaning the blood off her face. There was a silent plea in his eyes as he asked, “Please, let me?”

Everett was surprised by how kind and gentle Bucky was, using the smallest touches to sooth Y/N. He hoped it would be enough to make her comfortable. “I wanted to talk to you about Ethan Creed’s arrest.”

Y/N looked up, hissing when the harsh movement provided too much pressure against her head. Bucky pulled his hand back, giving her a moment. “You – You arrested him?”

All eyes turned to Tony and it was then when Y/N noticed the busted lip and faint bruising of his jaw. He didn’t say anything though. Instead, he pressed a button, allowing a hologram to appear near the farthest wall. Three separate images appeared.

Helmut Zemo.

Ethan Creed.

Quentin Beck.

All restrained in cubes with thick glass paneling. There was a cot, but nothing else. It looked like a warped, futuristic prison.

So many questions ran through her head in those moments. When? How? What about Ethan’s sons? What was going to happen to these men? Were they –

“Ow.” She flinched as Bucky finished wiping away the last of the blood.

Everett took a seat across from her, making sure to keep his distance. Comfort was their priority in this moment. “In normal circumstances, these men would be confined like this until my bosses decided what the best route would be. They would be left in the hands of the CIA.”

“But?”

Everett smiled, reaching across the table. His hand gently rested on hers, squeezing ever so gently. “Your ex-husband has friends in high places. Specifically, within the CIA, Hammer Industries, and the FoH. Which means one of the reasons he was an asset for Zemo was because, if his plan backfired, then we would be responsible for them and they would have a minimum sentence instead.”

“So what does this have to do with me?”

More silence. Everett looked back to Steve and Tony, silently asking them to step in with better words.

It was Tony that spoke up, “If you and Andie are willing to testify and go on record – “

“No.”

“Y/N, I know this is hard, but – “

“I will not bring my daughter into any of this.” Y/N leveled them with her eyes, making it adamantly clear. “Andie has been through more than any kid should ever have to. You can’t ask me to put her through more.”

“This would send all three men to the Raft.”

“No. No, there has to be something else. Anything.”

Everett watched him carefully, still unable to think of something off the top of his head. So instead, he leaned back in his chair and told her, “Give me time. I’ll think of something. Until then…I can promise they won’t be going anywhere.”

“Thank you.”

Bucky walked alongside Y/N, leading her through the compound and back where Andie’s bedroom was. “There’s a spare bedroom right here.” He pointed to the room. “And I’m two doors down.”

Y/N was silent, as if taking in this new information. “Why did you…” Her words trailed, falling silent as she lost the nerve to ask.

“What is it?”

She shook her head, opening the bedroom door and slipping inside. Bucky stared for a moment. Even though she was out of sight, he wanted nothing more than to go after her. He stepped closer, but then the door closed just as his hand reached the frame.

It made sense. Her retreating, refusing to talk. He didn’t blame her.

But god, it still hurt.

Stepping into his room, he flicked on the light and asked, “F.R.I.D.A.Y?”

Yes, Sergeant Barnes?

Bucky scratched the back of his neck. “Let me – Let me know if Y/N needs anything. Please?”

Of course, Mr. Barnes.

-

Sergeant Barnes.

Bucky woke to F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice. Looking around, his eyes landed on the alarm clock on his nightstand. He’d only been asleep for a couple hours.

It’s Ms. Y/L/N. You asked for me to inform you if she was distressed.

Bucky was already on his feet, hurrying out of the room as he called, “Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.” Taking the quick strides to Y/N’s bedroom, he was relieved when the A.I. let him in.

His heart faltered when he saw her. She was tossing and turning in the bed, drenched in sweat and hair plastered to her face. Bucky recognized a nightmare better than anyone. Immediately, he was at her side. He brushed her hair back, fingers nimbly brushing her cheeks, her jaw, her shoulders. Anything to try and sooth her.

“Y/N? Y/N, come on. Doll, wake up for me.”

Y/N whimpered, crying out in her sleep as Bucky pulled her up and cradled her in his arms. One hand wrapped tightly around her waist, the other stroking the back of her neck, playing with the spot where her hair started. Though the touch was kind and meant to be soothing, she jerked and jolted, screaming so loud that she woke herself up.

Wide, panicked eyes stared at him as she kicked between them, trying to gain as much distance as possible. She didn’t stop until her back hit the wall. Bucky’s hands fell, landing on the sheets and watching her carefully. She looked so skittish.

“Y/N?”

Her heaving chest slowly calmed as she seemed to regain her senses. Fresh tears slipped down her face as she curled her knees into her chest. “I – “

“It’s okay. You had a nightmare.”

Y/N’s gaze shifted from him to the bed and back again. She was wearing a loose t-shirt and some sweatpants, probably something that Steve or Sam had lent. Her hair was damp, but from a shower or nightmare, he wasn’t sure.

He inched closer. “Y/N…please, let me help.”

Y/N tensed at that and hit his chest, a new wave of tears hitting her. “You were supposed to.” She choked on a sob, arms trembling as he flinched. “I wanted you to – to help. To be there. You were supposed to…” She sniffled and hit his arm before pulling into herself.

“No. Stop. You’re not doing that. Y/N - ” He grabbed her arms, forcing her to uncurl herself.

“Stop! Let go!” She moved to try and pull herself free and Bucky was beginning to see where Andie had gotten that behavior from. “Bucky Barnes, let go of me!” She tried kicking him and, if Bucky wasn’t so worried about calming her down, he would’ve found it adorable. She was acting like a child. It reminded him of how chaotic she was the first night they met.

Grabbing her ankles, he yanked her close and placed her legs on either side of his lap. Every time she told him how much His hands moved then, one grabbing her wrist while the other grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look at him. “Y/N. Please, you are breaking my heart.” His voice trembled as he watched her watery eyes.

“What do you think you did to mine?”

Bucky could’ve expected just about anything, but that was not it. He held her close, shifting so his back hit the wall. Looking up at her, he gently ran his thumb along her cheek. “We…really need to work on this communication thing, don’t we?”

Y/N tensed as he wiped away any sign that she had cried. “Bucky, I’m not doing this.”

He watched her, knowing he had to choose his next words carefully. “I left a month ago on a wild goose chase for the man who ended up targeting you and Andie. You really don’t think we should talk?”

“I – I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause what’s the point?” She sat back slightly, using his thighs as a seat as his free hand gently stroked her knee. He just wanted to comfort her. “I tried telling you before that we are from very different lifestyles. Hell, Andie and I – we got dragged into your world just because we were associated with the Avengers.” She ran her hands through her hair, pulling it out of her face. Her chest felt so tight. “I can’t…This isn’t…” She gestured to everything around them. “I need normal.”

“So do I.”

Y/N scoffed. “No, you are an Avenger. You need bad guys and missions and battles and…”

Bucky shifted, gently squeezing her leg and interrupting her train of thought. “Y/N, listen to me. Please?” She hesitated, biting her lip as he slumped against the wall. “This is all…really…horrible timing. What happened was just a few hours ago and I’m not even sure we should be having this conversation right now, but it seems time is never really on our side. So we should probably take advantage of everyone being asleep while we can.” Y/N stayed silent, picking at her nails and letting him talk. It was a relief that someone would simply let him speak freely.

Taking a shaky breath, he told her, “I have no interest in being an Avenger.” She raised an eyebrow, opening her mouth to argue, but he beat her to the punch. “I don’t. I spent a lifetime brainwashed and working for Hydra. I did horrible things that I can never make up for, but I’m trying to do that with the team. I’m trying to take some step in the right direction.”

“Exactly! Which means we just don’t fit. There’s nothing about this that makes sense.”

“I met you because your kid got on a subway and I was worried about her. I had genuine concern for a kid I’d never met before. There’s nothing about any aspect of my life that makes sense, Y/N, and that is a prime example. But honestly?” His eyes searched hers, simply hoping that she would believe him. “I never wanted to be a soldier. Or a hero. I…I just wanted a family. And that’s why meeting you and Andie…Fuck.” He ran a hand over his face. “Why do I always struggle to talk around you?”

She stayed silent. Instead of picking at her nails, she was lightly tracing the arm next to his leg, trying to ease his nerves. Comforting each other came so easy. He found himself relaxing under her touch. “If it makes you feel any better, I have the same struggle.”

Bucky laughed, shaking his head ever so slightly. “I kept trying to tell myself that I was too broken for anything outside of being an Avenger. I thought I was so screwed up that it was my only option. And I kept reminding myself that…God, I hate that I ever thought this, but I kept telling myself that you and Andie weren’t my problem.” She frowned and he quickly told her, “That lasted four days, Y/N. Just four and you two had me wrapped around your fingers.”

Y/N slowly relaxed, any argument she had now fading away. “Bucky – “

“I know that we fucked up. If nobody else, I should’ve been more aware of the risk that came with you and Andie being a part of our lives. And that’s on me. Not you.” He took her hands in his, placing a light kiss to her knuckles. “I just…Y/N, I have been thinking about you and Andie nonstop. I am constantly worried about you two. I think about what new things I can do for her. How I can spend time with you and…” He forced himself to relax, to try and calm his racing heart. “I want to try this. I want to see if maybe I can fit in yours and Andie’s lives. If you’ll let me.”

“Um…” Y/N felt like her voice was caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure what to say or do, at a complete loss for words. So much had happened in one night. She had gone a month without even talking to Bucky and here he was, confessing emotions that she never would have expected. “Bucky…” She wanted to try. She really did. Everything about Bucky had made her smile. He had been someone she looked forward to seeing and spending time with. So why couldn’t she say that? “I can’t be a part of this life.”

“Then you don’t have to be. And neither do I. I don’t have to protect every family in the world.” A weak smile curled his lips. Those calmed nerves of his reappeared, threatening to set him on fire as he told her, “I just want to protect you two.”

Y/N could practically feel the walls around her heart crack and shatter. She wanted to fall into Bucky and let him catch her. She wanted…

God, what did she want?

She wanted to trust him. “We’re just trying?”

Bucky’s small smile turned into a grin, hope flashing in his eyes. “Yes. Trying, seeing if it works.”

“No missions?”

“Honestly?” He shrugged. “I am more than happy to leave all of that behind. I want normal, Y/N. I want you and Andie.”

She laughed. It was soft and weak, but it was there. “We aren’t normal. We’re a mess. And broken and… I mean, you saw Andie’s powers. We’re not easy.”

“And I would never insult you by assuming you were. But I want to try and take some of the drama out of both our lives.”

Y/N bit the corner of her cheek before nodding. “But we have to be slow.”

He grinned, sitting up more as his arm wrapped around her waist. Her hands found his shoulders. “I can do slow.”

“Bucky, I mean really slow. Andie can’t know. I don’t want her to get excited about a potential father-figure. I can’t do that to her after all of this.”

“Okay. Then we won’t. We will take it as fast or slow as you want. You make the rules.”

Y/N smiled at that. “Thank you.”

“But can I ask one thing?” She raised an eyebrow, waiting for whatever question he could possible ask her. “Can I please kiss you?”

Y/N really laughed that time, full and beaming smile in place as she pressed her forehead against his. “It’d be a waste of a moment if you didn’t.”

Bucky grinned and leaned forward, capturing her lips in a slow and intense kiss.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Warmth was the first thing that registered in Y/N’s head when she woke up. An arm was wrapped securely around her waist, reminding her of the events from last night and earlier that morning. Though she was still tense, nervous from everything that had happened at the warehouse, remembering Bucky comforting her was enough to put her at ease once again. She smiled as she felt Bucky tug her closer, still finding it so sweet that he refused to leave, simply wanting to hold her through the early morning.

But it was giggling that made her open her eyes.

She immediately propped herself up on her elbows when she saw Andie in front of her. That Cheshire cat smile curled her daughter’s lips, showing she was very aware of the situation.

It seemed the combination of Y/N’s sudden movements and Andie’s giggles woke Bucky from his deep slumber. He groaned, tugging at her waist and trying to pull her closer. “What’s going on?”

“Mom? Bucky?” she drawled, bouncing on her feet.

Bucky sat up when he heard Andie’s voice, finding her as he looked over Y/N’s shoulder.

Andie glanced from one to the other, eyes and cheekbones shimmering in rainbows due to her excitement. “Do you have something to tell me?”

-.-.-.-.-.-

Tag List:

@buckyssoul

@amnahs9695

@booktease21

@niahmariec

@purplekitten30​

@mr-robot-x

@lets--be-honest​

@maggyme13​

@littleredstarfish​

@mishaandthebrits​

[gaygwenpool]

Mysterio’s and Chameleon’s canon friendship 

I’ve limited myself to comics and indisputable panels, but if you’re really thirsty for Mysteleon content like me, there’s also the fact that (almost) every time they both appear in the same story, they are either directly working with one another (for example in cartoons like TSSM, 90′s Spider-man, Marvel’s Spider-man...) and often express interest in the other’s work or at least they are standing close to each other (ha!) or usually get mentioned one after the other (HA! thats what desperation smells like). And of course, unlike other villains, they are often unexpectedly polite and v professional in their team ups, no dick measuring contests and almost no backstabbing! 

Click on the pictures for the source (and to be able to read the actual lines lol) and on the read more for some context and explanations ~

Bonus from the Sinister Six novel trilogy:

Cham suggesting to politely wait for Beck to finish his newest murder show : 

Once Beck’s plan inevitably fails, not only Cham (disguised as the talkative cop) is there the Second he gets arrested but he immediately reminds him of the more successful part of his performance and praises n thanks him for it!! AND “GENUINE UNMISTAKABLE WARMTH”?? LIKE ARE YOU KIDDIN ME.

Cont. from the previous part, Beck is “practically hopping” with excitement to see his buddy ok this one could be debatable but after genuine unmistakable warmth and “wont spend so much as a single minute behind bars” im. 🤔🤔🤔 

Here’s the promised context  and some crying in the order of the photoset

1) Avengers Academy: Pretty much self-explanatory, Cham in disguise kicked Beck so hard his helmet shattered in order to fool some kids, once he can reveal himself he helps him up and apologizes. And you can practically smell that shared interest in acting :3

2) Grim Hunt: Sasha Kravinoff wants to bring Kraven back from the dead, she enlists help of Chammy and manipulates some villains n spiders. Listen, i get that they had to hire Electro for the actual necromancy but MYSTERIO?? For what, the little confusion mist and spooky effects he added to the graveyard??? For the animated spiders on Cham’s disguise? Like the he couldnt pull that on his own? Mysti didnt even need to be motivated for the Gauntlet challenge, his plans were already in motion! Cham got him purely because it’s “a pleasure to work with him” you cant change my mind

3) Ends of Earth: Most of the Mysteleon stuff comes from this arc or the preparation arcs that tie into it, Otto is dying and he regroups the Sin Six for Something Big. Mysti and Cham have a frikin Blast the whole time. How does that saying go about finishing each other’s sentences.. :3 

4)  Fantastic Voyage: One of the EoE prequels, Beck n Cham are on their own on an island, tryin to distract the fantastic four and do somethin reality-shattering for Ock while pretending the entire squad is there. Mmmm look at them compliments, sure, Mysterio praises Everyone if he’s impressed but damn Quentin that’s not how you help someone up, what even are you doing? :’D and Dmitri’s “MY HEART BLEEDS FOR YOU, BECK” both as sassing him or the lil chance it’s genuine is Excellent

5)  EoE: ok i’ll admit it, this one is open to interpretations BUT they have nicknames for each other! And their own private octobot they share! And Beck wants to know what Cham is thinking!! (and im reaching i know let the girl dream)

6) More of the Ends of Earth shenanigans, Chameleon disguised as Doc Ock versus Spidey+Black Widow+Silver Sable in order to help Beck keep having fun up the illusion going.  “No I’m not being a baby” fdjkagj love their bickering but please note that Beck DID make the suit padded and sturdy enough to withstand a bomb near head.

7) Gauntlet: Prequel for the Grim hunt, Cham goes to hire Beck with a Personal joke HE THOUGHT BECK WOULD LIKE! for comparison, this is how he recruited Electro lmao:

8) EoE, Spidey+Sable+Widow got stuck on Mysterio’s set and Beck n Cham are watching and roasting them.( It’s slightly before Cham attacks spidey disguised as doc ock.) Anyway FRIENDS!!! Talkin about their shared interests of acting and being bastards!! Nicknames! Mysti coming up with an idea and Cham immediately following through! Skill praising sorta! Them makin fun of Otto! This page has it all. 

9) Dr. Doom and the Masters of Evil: This whole issue is a gift but Mysti asking Cham to borrow his car is the cherry on top. 

Bonus Bonus for gettin all the way here: According to wiki, this guy is a fusion of Mysterio and Chameleon, idk how they got that information since Mysti’s helmet can as well be opaque like this even without Cham’s influence BUT who am i to look into the gift horse’s mouth right

[morkhan]

So if we look at it at least somewhat realistically, here's how I think the situation following the identity reveal would probably go:

The combined resources of Stark Industries and the Avengers would almost certainly be enough to exonerate Peter of any official charges. They could produce all manner of records and pictures verifying Quentin Beck's real identity as a disgruntled ex-Stark employee, and his holographic technology can be clearly demonstrated in court.

The most important thing would be speed; Pepper and company would need to be very quick in debunking the charges to keep the idea of Spider-Man as a villain from taking root in the public eye. This likely means that in order to debunk the false charges, they would have to admit to the true ones. In other words: confirming that Peter is Spider-Man. Perhaps he'd even get a press conference like his hero. Either way, I don't think there is any putting that particular genie back in the bottle; there are just too many bad people or unrelated third parties that know, and too much evidence that can be stacked against him by anyone paying attention. Trying to sweep Peter's identity back under the rug would only make him (and everyone else involved) look shady.

If their response is as swift and effective as I think it would be, then Peter would likely be exonerated in the court of public opinion as well. As long as they don't waste time or do anything to squander it, there is enough goodwill towards Spider-Man on the part of New York to allow him to, by and large, keep living his life and being a superhero. People might call him by his name when he swings by now. He, his family, and close friends would likely need a security detail, and perhaps even to move to more secure housing. Peter's relationship with the police would probably become a little more formal (he might even be required to do paperwork!). But other than that, I think very little would have to change.

That said, a small but extremely vocal minority would probably still believe Beck's lies and allege conspiracies to cover up the truth. These people would hate Spider-Man with a burning passion no matter what he did, and JJJ would make a fortune pouring fuel on that fire. The weak-minded and easily swayed would temporarily join the ranks of this minority any time Peter fails or screws up or is blamed for something, but it's unlikely this crew would ever be anything more than a thorn in Peter's side.

So realistically, in the long term, Mysterio and his crew's final gambit wouldn't be enough to sink Peter or ruin his life. He's independently responsible for enough good and has enough people with stellar public relations on his side to smack down any false charges raised against him.

But that doesn't mean he's out of the woods.

Because while false charges might not be enough to sink him, true charges might just do the trick, and there is one final trump card that Mysterio's crew could play to destroy Peter, one very true detail about him that, if leaked, could ruin him forever:

EDITH.

See, I don't know if you guys realize this, but Peter having control of EDITH kind of makes him one of the most powerful people on earth. It's a terrifying Orwellian surveillance system that allows him to monitor all forms of communication at all times for anyone, and to access, alter, and delete data on seemingly any device that has internet access. It is also an automated weapon system that allows him to call a drone strike on anyone, anywhere, at any time, and gives him immediate access to an army of weaponized drones with enough firepower to take and hold a small country and a super photorealistic state-of-the-art holographic projection system! Thanks, Beck!

I mean... this might be a controversial opinion, but I'm gonna come out and say it anyway; EDITH should not exist. She is basically Project INSIGHT with a friendlier voice. She is exactly what HYDRA wanted to build; a gun aimed at the head of every person on earth. The only difference is who has access to the trigger. EDITH makes Orwell look positively respectful; she is a vast overreach born of Tony's worst paranoid impulses and a clear example that while the man was certainly good, he was not perfect. She is one of Tony's demons, excised and made into code and steel. He never should have built her.

But he did.

And everyone in Mysterio's crew knows about her. If they can't have her, why should Peter?

All they'd have to do is leak EDITH's details to the general public (including Peter's complete control of her), and the world would work itself into an absolute frothing frenzy. The headlines write themselves; "Tony Stark builds Big Brother, Gives Keys to Kid!" "Iron Man's All-Seeing Eye; What Stark Industries and Spider-Man DON'T Want You to Know!" "SPIDER-MAN WATCHES YOU SLEEP!"

Stark Industries can't just deny its existence. If they tried, every government on earth would freeze their assets and demand an investigation, which could potentially lead them to seizing all of Tony's weapons, armors, and plans, and using them for military purposes, posthumously making him the Merchant of Death all over again, a legacy he fought so hard to escape.

The company would basically have no choice but to admit the truth, which means Peter is fucked. The world would turn against him overnight.

And that's just the public opinion. Governments around the world would be itching to get their hands on this system, and would be willing to do just about anything to take it from him. There would be no safe haven for him on earth; every country he went to would likely try to arrest him on whatever charges they could trump up. The US government especially would threaten him with all manner of prosecution under the guise of protecting civil liberties. And all of these charges, all of this potential jail time, would come with a simple caveat: if Peter wants it to go away, all he has to do is hand EDITH over.

So that means that Peter essentially has three options.

Destroy EDITH so no one can use it. This will likely satisfy the public and be the best overall for Peter's conscience, but will anger governments (the US especially) to the point where they will likely try to prosecute him, and could result in him becoming a fugitive. And it would also require him to destroy his mentor's last legacy, something Tony created specifically for him.

Hand EDITH over to the government. This would result in the charges being dropped, and if the government helps him sell a story of its destruction, might even result in the public liking him again. But it would destroy his conscience and eat at him every day for the rest of his life, knowing that he gave such a powerful weapon to people who cannot be trusted to do good with it. He would likely just wind up having to go destroy it anyway when they inevitably started misusing it, which puts him right back in square one.

Do neither. Protect Tony's legacy and use it to do good even if no one wants him to. This would make him both a public pariah and an international fugitive, pursued by every police agency on the planet and hated by the common man. This path would essentially require him to assume and use EDITH'S full capabilities to fight off and/or evade anyone coming after him while also trying to actually fight evil as well. This would essentially mean the death of Spider-Man as a hero, making him an antihero at best, and rendering him a legit supervillain in the eyes of most. This is the most interesting path to me, which means it's probably the least likely to actually happen.

Either way, I think Peter's rise or fall would come entirely down to what he chooses to do with Tony's final gift to him, a gift that embodies his mentor's worst impulses and excesses, a legacy that could result in the destruction of everything Tony fought to leave behind, if Peter isn't careful.

[beckonkill]

the big post of plots

psst--need some plots?  i’ve got some plots for you.

let me know if you’re interested in any of these plots, or just leave the sentence in my inbox for a starter based around it!

NO VERSE IN PARTICULAR

Exploring the similarities of Quentin’s powers and the tesseract and Scarlet Witch’s and Captain Marvel’s powers

Talking about feelings

Seriously let these people work through their trauma

Quentin goes missing and S.P.O.T. Drone comes to your muse for help

Join him in travelling the multiverse

Quentin accidentally throws your muse and himself to a different universe

Help him get home

Quentin losing his powers either entirely or enough that he can no longer travel the multiverse

Quentin experiencing illness due to being away from his home world

Threads where I’m controlling more than one version of Quentin at once

Three person threads!!

Threads that reference threads with other people

Quentin accidentally teleporting into places he doesn’t belong

...or intentionally, tbh

Quentin having the chance to show off his technology or intelligence--he can be really smart when he’s not being a dumbass

MAIN -- GOOD VERSE

Quentin actually being a mentor to Peter

Quentin bonding with any of the other heroes

Quentin meeting Peter’s friends

Quentin coping with suddenly being a hero with a revealed identity, and what that means in this world

MAIN -- CROSSOVER VERSE

Quentin getting mistaken for Canon!Quentin

Quentin getting arrested for what Canon!Quentin did

Quentin promptly breaking out of prison because Canon!Quentin doesn’t have powers

Quentin not realizing what Canon!Quentin did, seeing Peter in trouble and just trying to help out

Let Quentin meet alternate versions of himself!

He assumes the story Canon!Quentin gives is true and Canon!Quentin assumes his story is false.  Hilarity ensues.

Alternately, Quentin has seen the situation enough that he knows exactly what Canon!Quentin is up to and is not happy.

Let him meet anyone that knows Canon!Quentin

Quentin taking the video at face value and hunting Peter down for killing his alternate self

Quentin realizing the video was likely falsified to some degree and trying to help Peter

Quentin, having done the cycle so many times, simply blowing Peter off when he tries to help

Quentin, having done the cycle so many times, already knowing who “Fury” is

Quentin, having done the cycle so many times, just knows everything about the situation he’s in

Send him into strange worlds and AUs!

FALLEN VERSE

Talk him down

Pre-established relationships where your muse was friends/whatever with him and watches his decent 

PRISONER VERSE

Your muse in charge of his “Parole”

Pre-established relationships where your muse was friends/whatever with him and he disappears for a while only to return after having been imprisoned

Throw your muse in prison with Quentin

Quentin trying to be a hero (read: doing stupid shit) even without the use of his powers or drones

Quentin bonding with any of the heroes that were temporarily imprisoned in the Raft

Your muse visiting and talking to Quentin 

Your muse as his guard?

SOLDIER VERSE

Let Major Beck touch and question everything

Let Major Beck meet and fight his alternate selves

Send your muse into Major Beck’s world

Major Beck being mistaken for Canon!Quentin

Major Beck being confused by the multiverse

Major Beck meeting Peter

Major Beck manifesting in strange places, such as your muse’s livingroom

Peter shows up in their world in the middle of train tracks and gets rescued by Major Beck only to realize who saved him?

A long-term portal appearing and connecting the two universes?

Let him play with the tires you heathens!

CLONE VERSE

Your muse and Quentin working through what really happened

Let him meet the real Quentin!

Quentin trying and failing to be a hero because he never really had powers

Discussions about the ethical and legal implications of Quentin’s existence

Breaking the news to him

Quentin becoming increasingly unstable as his natural personality and his false personality clash

BROTHER VERSE

Let Martin bother his brother!

Martin and Quentin reuniting after Quentin fakes his death in Far From Home

Martin coming back to terrorize Peter in Quentin’s place

Martin ultimately failing to kill Peter even if he has the chance because he just doesn’t have it in him to kill a kid

Martin meeting anyone that interacted with Quentin

Martin terrorized with visions of his brother after his “death”

Martin just generally failing to be a hero

Martin taking the fall for his brother’s actions

Martin vs Quentin plots

FIRST UNIVERSE VERSE

Quentin helping with the conflicts of any of the other movies

Your muse helping him through the trauma of being in a strange new universe

[franciebeck]

“One day… I get them both back… Thank you, that does me wonders. That we will eventually get out of this hell hole and… try our best to make things work.”

As overwhelming of an experience as this was, being rest assured of a good future despite all of the misery the siblings were facing now gave them something they hadn’t had in forever. As cliche as it sounded, they had hope.

Francis was a hero, one who could be counted on, but she was not a hero today for valor or skill, but for her ability to lift the spirits of those most in need, even if it was her family from the distant past.

See, the pair, particularly Quentin, didn’t really like heroes. Sure, they saved the city, but the city was also the thing that hurt them the most. Who cared if the world was about to end when your life was nothing but a living hell the entire time? Who cares about the big picture when you can’t even guarantee your own safety?

Heroes over looked many people like them. The struggling class. The forgotten youth. The ruined innocence. Sure, some heroes took the time to help people like them, but they were so few and far between and were also often so busy facing down other dangers that it was a drop in the bucket compared to the ocean.

Quentin appreciated heroes like them, but it did nothing to quell his miserable state. Having so many heroes in New York only added to his frustration. They could only be a mile away and still have a blind eye to sexual abuse and starvation. So many heroes, and yet not enough. Spread too thin or focusing on other things.

They were people, too, not just unfeeling things that only served the greater good. It was tough. A balancing act.

When Daredevil or Power Man had been right there, 100 feet away, facing down a criminal, the crowd cheered at their victory. But Beck grit his teeth from the alley way. The criminal was just a thief trying to live. Sure, criminals sucked, but seeing the “saviors” just leave. Just turn their backs on him, on everyone, to enjoy a job well done was down right insulting.

How is suffering like this a ‘good job’ in any universe? Maybe he was selfish. Things could never be perfect, of course, a hero cannot stop to save /every/ day, but they also had never done him any good and seemed too self absorbed to notice the crying masses. Gods among men, and men among gods who figured themselves as greater than everyone else with their high standards.

He hated the super hero community, in a way, for their forgetfulness of those below them.

However, Francis turned this notion on it’s head. She was doing nothing but helping those most in need. Seeking out the problem areas and being there for him. For his sister, and who knows how many others these past few days and weeks.

A friendly neighborhood hero was what they needed, too bad for Beck, Spider-Man was still a kid like him. A few short years away from transforming into the web-slinging super hero.

Francis had restored a bit of his faith in heroes and in humanity, deep deep down. Little did anyone know, but this would be enough to keep him from being that villain, and rather when he faced a hard financial time, he would seek out being a full time hero, rather than a thieving super villain.

The world would praise Mysterio as an Avenger from the start, rather than loathe him for years on end. And in time, he would find Ock, but rather than arresting him, he would reach out and save him from a life of crime, where they could pursue being humanitarians together, forming a positive relationship, and eventually, a child.

Francis, in this alternate world.

Much the rest would be the same, but this time around, things would go smoother, with far less heart ache and more compassion.

All because a true hero was there for Quentin when he needed one the most. Because a daughter was there for her father, in the end, regardless of all the trouble that went into it.

Quentin sighed at her later statement.

“Y-yeah, of course they would have to know. I mean, you look exactly like me, so you’re blood related to me, meaning they, my partner, your biological father… would… know…. ya know?”

The less detail the better, but yes. True. It would be physically impossible for them not to know.

Alex actually seemed relieved and happy that her brother was able to get over his stressful situation with Francis. And to know that things would get better not only for him, but for her as well.

“So, since you are from the future… are you… stuck here? Do you have a way back?”

Pragmatic as always, Alex was on top of the most pressing issue. Concern seemed to edge into everyone’s minds. As much as they would like to warm up more to Francis, she already had a family and place she belonged to. Quentin and Alex would not deny their alternate selves of their daughter and niece.

No, they would help as best they could for the kindness she showed them. They would return the favor as best they could.

That made a frown grow on Francie’s face.

“No, I don’t. It’s a long story but I’m kinda stuck here until someone in the future notices I’m missing.” Her hands held her face, “Ugh, Dad’s gonna kill me. He’s always worried that something like this would happen.”

She picked up her face and looked at them, “I’ve been camping out a warehouse. It’s not really much but it works for the time being. Haven’t had a lot of problems with other people finding me and if they do my strength usually drives them away.

@neomysterio

[trippin-over-my-fandoms]

Unexpected Repercussions

(COMPLETE)

Peter Parker goes missing and SHIELD suspects Quentin Beck. The only problem is that he's been on house arrest. He has no clue where Spider-Man is. As it turns out- Peter is closer to Quentin than could have ever been guessed.

excerpt - (basically chapter 1)

Quentin Beck's apartment wasn't small by any means. His previous career at Stark Industries had left him a rather wealthy man and with that money he was able to afford a nicely sized apartment for one man. It was the size of a medium house and with an open floor plan for the kitchen, dining, and living along with a high ceiling the place felt larger than it was. Especially with the mostly white interior and minimalist style the furnishings had. It had become more cluttered recently after he was fired but before hand he was hardly ever at home and too many decorations distracted him. It was just enough to sate his OCD without over stimulating him.

Though, no matter how big it felt or how neat the decor was, it got small and boring fast for a man who had been on house arrest since July.

It was embarrassing really, absolutely humiliating. Oh how damaged his pride was.

To this day he still wasn't sure how Nick Fury and SHIELD had gotten the jump on him. One minute he's mentally tormenting Spider-Man in Berlin and the next he's stunned, electricity coursing through his veins and taking him to the ground. He had been electrocuted by plenty of experiments but never tased. It was certainly something he never wanted to feel again.

At least his own apartment was better than a five by five foot containment cell in some SHIELD facility. They had him in one of those for at least a month if not longer before they got tired of hearing him complain about it. At least that's what he told himself. It was better than being reminded that he was being used. They needed a new Tony Stark and they used him for tech upgrades. That was the most humiliating part of it all. He hated being used and working for someone else, especially when he got no credit whatsoever. His goal had been to rise up on top, be a hero and never work for anyone ever again. Only to get knocked down a reasonable amount of pegs and to wind up working for SHIELD.

He would have just hacked his way out of an ankle monitor if it had been that easy. The scar that marked the chip surgically implanted in his arm itched as a reminder that we was now basically a slave. He had tried to sort it out so maybe he could run, never to be found again, but he had only succeeded in harming himself.

Originally when it was set the perimeter was the entire building. So when he needed to stretch his legs and go beyond his apartment he'd walk the halls and sometimes take the stairs to the roof. This is when he learned he had not only a chip but an agent watching him as well. One day he had climbed up to the roof of the building only to be startled when the guy busted through the door panting (the idiot probably climbed the stairs instead of taking the elevator) an brandishing one of those damn tasers. He immediately recognized him too. He had seen the guy lingering in the hall outside his apartment once or twice. After that his perimeter was set to just his apartment. He couldn't even walk out the front door without getting a small jolt from the chip. It was as if he were a dog with a shock collar.

So now he paced about his apartment restlessly. He had a treadmill but it wasn't energy he needed to burn, he needed a change of scenery. At least he had a balcony. It was awful though for the days he was stuck. When he couldn't think and ideas just weren't coming. Usually he would walk down to the park just a five minute walk from his building but now he couldn't even do that.

His frustration was pent up and he felt like screaming but he knew that would irritate the neighbors and someone would call to complain meaning the building would call SHIELD and Fury would be on his ass about it. He really hated that guy.

Quentin settled for a growl and a huff as he plopped down on his couch. He growled again as he rubbed his temples, sinking lower to where he was almost uncomfortably slouching against the cushions. He needed to think but his mind wasn't giving him anything, it was just blank, empty, void of anything helpful.

A meow sounds from his left and he glares at the cat who's positioned herself on the pillow next to him. For a cat he kept around only to keep out bugs and snakes and rodents she sure was spoiled. Well, she was mostly there for the snake part. He was deathly afraid of those but that bit of information was usually the very last thing he would tell anyone.

She meows again and even though Quentin glares at her she remains in her place. She must want food. Tomorrow was supposed to be the day they brought him groceries. Hopefully that included cat food.

They end up starring at each other for a while. Quentin tries to figure out where the couch stops and where his white cat begins. She was very good at startling him, she blended in so well with the walls that he almost never saw her coming unless he was looking for her. He assumed somehow she figured this out because she got into the habit of making her presence known when she entered a room he was in. Usually by meowing.

The cat jumps off the couch rather suddenly and runs off when the front door suddenly opens. Quentin nearly does the same since he wasn't expecting the sudden intrusion. Though, that was expected with SHIELD unfortunately.

What's odd is that Fury is the first to walk in and behind him are Hill as well as several other agents. It seems like a raid almost. Fury looks pissed but when does he ever not.

"Is it too much to hope you're bringing me groceries a day early?" He quips, still sitting and watching as the agents begin to look around the apartment. There wasn't much in it so it would be a quick job.

"Watch it or we'll send military rations again. Another two weeks of MRE's sound good to you Beck?" Nick Fury scowls, looking down at him with a challenge in his eye. Quentin rolls his eyes, the memory not exactly pleasant. He had managed to piss off SHIELD somehow and they sent him two weeks worth of military field food. He practically starved to death as a refusal to eat them. They tasted nasty anyways and he could hardly believe they fed that to their armed forces.

"I'm good thanks." He huffs, taking another glance around his apartment and the chaos going on as the agents looked in everything with a door. "Look, the tech you asked for isn't done yet so unless there's some other reason for you disturbing Delilah and me-"

"Where's Spider-Man?" Fury is blunt and his anger seeps out in his tone. He looks like he wants to grab him and pull him onto his feet. Quentin saves him the trouble and stands up, keeping eye contact the entire time. "How the hell should I know? I've been on house arrest for the past two months. Can't exactly leave the place to kidnap a kid without your dogs sniffing me out first." He's just as pointed, making sure to let it be known how unhappy he is with only being allowed as far as his balcony.

Fury doesn't ask, instead he looks up at a Maria Hill who looks eager to speak to him and all the other agents have stopped moving about. Quentin looks towards her as well.

"He's not here sir. No sign of fowl play either." She looks almost disappointed and if he thought Fury couldn't look angrier somehow he was capable. Geeze, you'd thing what your prime suspect not being the one to blame would be a relief. It doesn't stop him from throwing a mocking grin his way though. He was innocent and he felt he had every right to be upset they disrupted his day and accused him of Parker's disappearance.

He opens his mouth to say something but Hill adds, "he hasn't been taking the medications either. All but one dosage untouched since last delivery." At which his smile drops and Fury quirks a brow.

Another dreadful thing that had come out of everything. When he was still being held at the facility they did a mentally evaluation on him. If he remembered correctly he had OCD (which he already knew about), NPD, BPD, and Bipolar One. Afterwards they practically forced him to take various medicines for all of them. One time when things got bad, when he was having a rough time from being cooped up and frustrated with his work he thought he would try and take all the pills they had provided him with until he realized they were in measures doses. No more than three days worth of each. They didn't even give him more until he was out.

"And why not?" Fury asks, crossing his arms and stiffening his posture. If he didn't know any better he'd think the man was about ready to shove them down his throat.

"They don't work and I hate them," he says with a shrug, "I took them this morning and all they've managed to do was frustrate me and delay working on your shit. And the blue one makes me tired."

Of course Hill just has to argue, "it's supposed to. It's for your Bipolar One and you're supposed to take it at night to help with sleep."

He rolls his eyes and turns from Fury to her, why did they care so much about his headspace? He hadn't killed himself yet and apparently the narcissistic part of him kept him from doing just that. "Well how was I supposed to know there were different times?" Mostly he's giving her a hard time just to be a little shit but at the same time he actually didn't know that.

"If you read the directions taped onto your mirror-"

"That's enough." Fury cuts in and that's the end of it. He makes a movement with his head and the agents file out of the apartment. "If we find out Parker's disappearance has anything to do with you Beck you lose any and all privileges you have left."

Quentin rolls his eyes yet again but nods anyways. Gosh, the stick up that guys ass. He was ready for him to leave. Thankfully he does just that and he's alone yet again.

He couldn't help but wonder though, what had happened to Peter that SHIELD was looking for him. It wasn't a 'he's avoiding us' approach it was 'he's been taken and possibly dead' kind. Or maybe they were just always over dramatic.

At least he didn't have to deal with it anymore.

READ CHAPTERS 2 & 3 ON AO3

[lit-works]

Heroes For Hire: The Gang Wars Trilogy

Book 1: After Midnight

Prelude : RWST

The moonlight, pale and as mournful as lilies shone onto the chessboard through the steel-grated windows. Marc spector sat in the recreation room of the Ravencroft Institute for the criminally insane, as a committed patient. He looked away from the ensuing chess game momentarily to gaze through the secured windows. He observed a bird sitting in the tree just outside the window. He was sure it was a Falcon, perched there and looking in at him.

Marc had been committed for a number of atrocious crimes he had committed, the most severe of which include murder. The courts had said he had once cut a man’s face off. Since being at the hospital and receiving extensive treatment he had been diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder, paranoid Schizophrenic hallucinations, and Hero syndrome (a phenomena in which the afflicted desperately crave notoriety or attention for heroic acts, to the extreme of creating catastrophic situations it seems only they can resolve). Hero syndrome most commonly has manifested itself in arson cases that went too far out of hand for the hero/arson. Dissociative Identity Disorder or Split-Personality as it had always been called before seemed to be the root of Marc’s troubling psychoses, according to his institutional psychiatrist. He had developed 3 personas to share his mind with.

He was born Marc Spector. A nondescript Jew growing up in the bronx. But he later became Jake Lockley, a cab driver with some shady connections. He was also Steven Grant, playboy millionaire. However, it was his final alter ego that had ultimately placed Marc into the position to wind up in Ravencroft. He had created the persona of the costumed vigilante Moon Knight, and claimed to have done the egyptian moon god Knoshu’s bidding. While under the guise of Moon Knight he performed numerous illicit activities.

Eventually, like many other psychopathic murderers, Marc was arrested and committed after being deemed mentally unsound to stand criminal trial. For months it seemed that Marc had finally received the help he needed and where he could be protected from and against the community.

But, Marc started having his horrible nightmares again. Cold sweat-inducing, scream evoking, night terrors that stirred him from his sleep to the light of the moon shining in on him in his cot. He was convinced, as he stated in the following therapy sessions that he believed Knoshu was sending him a message through his dreams. Though the message was enigmatic to Marc, the content of the dream itself was vividly concise : flame, with no heat, searing him deeper than the flesh. Dark spirits plotting and menacing. A brutal, savage war amid the very streets of New York littering the streets with the bodies of the youth. An ancient tome. All of this interspersed with vistas of the egyptian deserts and mythic symbolism of the egyptian polytheistic lore. “Typical of his schizoid delusions”, the good Dr. Leonard Samson proclaimed on one occasion.

Soon, Marc began to stop taking his medication. After waiting patiently in the queue for his “ding biscuits”, as the other patients called the thorazine and other various sedatives they were all heavily dosed with, he would cheek his meds instead of swallowing them. He had realized what Knoshu was attempting to convey to him. There was a horrible evil that would occur unless he, Moon Knight, took actions to stop it. He needed to be free of Ravencroft. He needed to fulfill Knoshu’s will.

Finally, on a full moon, just a few minutes before the grandfather clock of the rec room struck midnight Marc enacted his escape.

One of the graveyard shifts guards was performing his routine hall patrol, when he noticed movement in the peripheral of his eye in one of the cells. The treatment staff insisted they be called rooms, but they were cells as much as their inhabitants were criminals. The guard shone his flashlight through the window, and was mortified by what he saw. It appeared one of the patients had hung themselves, again. In a panic, the guard pressed the distress alert button on his radio and scrambled for the proper door key. Once the cell door was thrust open the guard rushed in to try and cut the patient down and hope he wasnt too late. He found himself rather surprised however when the patient was lighter than air and seemed to deflate in his grasp. He was holding onto a set of patients clothing that had been stuffed with pillows and blankets and strung from the central light fixture. Another sick joke the guards were constantly subjected to by the more sadistic or humorous patients. Immediately furious, the guard yanked the bundle of cloth from the ceiling and scanned the cell for the assigned patient. He did not even notice as Marc slipped the truncheon from the guards belt, only the whoosh of air as Marc brought it down onto his temple rendering him unconscious.

Marc had not wanted to hurt officer Bryant, but the man didnt drink coffee and therefore the confrontation could not be avoided. The other guards and remaining on-call medical staff had by this time in the evening had already consumed quite a large portion of what was available in the break and security rooms. Marc had taken the precaution of having his prescriptions diluted into the coffee so he would face minimal resistance during his escape. His fellow patient Quentin Beck, or as most knew him Mysterio, was a trusted patient who was allowed to work in the kitchens and had zero qualms with introducing the chemical into the staff’s diet.

He had to avoid capture if he wanted to follow his visions and fulfill Knoshu’s will, and so could not appear like the asylum escapee he was. So, he stole the white 3-piece suit from the good Dr. Leonard Samson as well as his cane and wing-tipped loafers. In a farewell to the institution, Marc then found a white bag that was often placed over the patients head during constraint to prevent the more violent patients from spitting or biting. He drew the lunar shape of an eclipsed moon on the bag before placing it over his own head and disappearing into the night, a shadow in the light of the night.

_

12:27 AM

Dispatch : all units, report. We need officers to investigate a potential breaking and entering at The Met. The internal alarms have been triggered, but not the outside alarms. Security staff reported they had footage of an unidentified suspect atop the roof and have sent their own to apprehend the individual. If you are in the area, please report.

Car 10-05 radio: dispatch, 10-4, officer Mcnally and Officer Medina en route to the Met. Investigating potential 10-15, over.

12:45 AM

Car 10-05 radio: Dispatch, this is car 10-05, officer Mcnally reporting from the Met. Investigating the potential 10-35 here, we're gonna need an ambulance out here the met’s security are all laid out. I think one of em got thrown from the roof. No currently visible suspect, still requesting back-up. Officer Medina and i are going to look around the area. Over.

Dispatch: 10-4, over. Car number 10-05 in 5th Avenue area, requesting back-up for 10-35 in progress. Also EMT and paramedic assistance required, a number of ppl are injured at 1000 5th Ave. Please respond, 10-3 over.

12:51 AM

Audio extracted from the patrol car dash-cam footage of squad car 10-05.

(Siren wailing)

(Hurried footsteps)

Officer Mcnally: (to officer Medina) well, what the fuck is this? (To suspect in white) freeze! Drop the cane and put your hands in the air!

Officer Medina: what are you doing at the Met after midnight, huh? The exhibits are closed.

(Silence passes for a few seconds)

Officer Mcnally: i said drop the cane and put your damn hands to the sky!

Officer Medina: damn it, im gonna cuff this clown.

(Sounds of scuffling, resistance and harsh slams)

(Struggle continues)

Officer Mcnally: You have the right to remain silent, asshole!! You have the right to an attorney!! Now get your ass up and into the squad car!!

Officer Medina: (guttural groans)

(Sounds of suspect being apprehended and placed into custody in squad car 10-05).

Officer Mcnally: you alright, Medina?

Officer Medina: bastard broke my arm!!! (Whimpers in pain)

Officer Mcnally over personal radio: Dispatch, suspect apprehended in 10-31 at the Met. Additional charges of about 13 assaults with a deadly weapon, as well as resisting arrest are gonna be pursued with this guy. Bastard sucker-punched the reinforcement officers as soon as they got here and gave me and Medina a pretty good thrashing too. We're gonna need another ambulance, officers injured. But, the suspect is in custody.

1:12 AM

Audio extracted from internal patrol car camera for squad car 10-05

Officer Mcnally: so, what's your name, guy?

Suspect: Moon Knight

Officer Medina: ok, there Mr. Knight you wanna explain to me why you got that bag on your head?

(Silence)

Officer Medina: i mean, the worst most ppl get around Halloween are some kids in costume on their door step, maybe a few eggs and rolls of TP thrown at their house. I get damn near put in traction by some fool breaking into the Met. I thought the holiday seasons were a time for peace on earth and good will towards NYPD.

Officer Mcnally: so, what were you doing there Mr. Knight.

Suspect: the moon led me to a heinous crime so i could stop it, and the moon will not tolerate your interference.

Officer Mcnally: The Moon? That code for something?

(Silence)

Suspect head arched back looking out the rear window of the squad car: I will not allow these misguided villains to stand in your way, I the Moon’s Knight of vengeance must carry out your luminous will.

Officer Medina: uhhh, are you seriously talkin’ to the moon??!! Like the one the cow jumped over??!!

Suspect: there is much more to the moon than the childish stories you know.

Officer Medina: ok, buddy. (Laughs) and i thought seeing a drunk witch fighting marilyn Monroe at that costume party was gonna be the weirdest thing we saw tonight.