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whambambatfam · 2 months ago

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Webs of a Wing

Chapter 2

I wanted to post once a month and had this chapter ready to go when I posted the first. Then I suddenly decided to add a bunch more a few days along and almost didn't post on time... It's 12:10 but, close enough. Also, I fought for my life trying to figure out how to tag people for some reason..

Anyway! Founding your family time with the slay girls. My knowledge in the MCU is as vast as in DCU so, quite small.

I hope you like it!

Reader ages 10 - 12

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It starts to feel less disappointing to see that they never show up. Of course, Alfred always tries to make the time; he's your number one support.

You didn't ask for everyone's attention, you didn't want it, only theirs. Not looked up to on a pedestal, watched over from afar, like A doll on the shelf. All you asked for is a connection, real and human.

Yet, you could never achieve it, so you stopped trying. You stopped reaching out to hands that were never extended to you. If you're not wanted, then you won't bother. You won't waste your time. You had Alfred when you could, another observer in their lives. In this, you find your own kind of family, away from the manor, forming connections and bonds that follow you through your school years. One girl in particular was a catalyst for accepting others into your life.

“Hey! Can you give your opinion on the after-school club uniforms?” You're halted in the halls by a redhead gripping your shoulders.

You blink at her owlishly, “Uh, wha-?”

Noting your confusion, she introduces herself, “Ah, name’s Mary, Mary Jane Watson. You can call me MJ.” Her arm slips around your shoulder as she guides you along.

“Um, hi, Mj.” You relax ever so slightly when you give her your first name and she doesn't immediately pounce on you for a surname.

Wiping out a notepad, she finally explains, “So, I write the school paper’s fashion articles and I've noticed you join, like, a lot.”

“Oh. Yeah..” Tilting your head at her, you’re still very lost as to why you were the one singled out.

But she just smiles, “Come with me. I need to know about everything they make you wear.” She says as if she plans to drag you away.

She wanted you to show her every blazer, letterman, vest, and so forth. Not ready to bring a stranger to the mansion she compromises. Choosing to meet after your clubs. It's nice to have someone waiting for you, other than Alfred. You don't wish to be her model, to her disappointment. Instead, opting to go behind the camera. Mj squeals in delight as you give her free range on the available gear. Styling and posing a hundred times for each uniform.

You've come to know her as a kind-hearted, fairly popular, carefree girl. One who often weaponized these traits to her advantage, especially when it comes to getting a good story. After her article on club fashion is released, a big hit around school, she doesn't let you go. Insisting she needs someone to help her with photos for her real passion, modeling. That's how you found yourself snapping shots of MJ throughout the school day and between clubs. You would feel like a creeper if it wasn't for the fact that she practically demands it.

On occasion, this has left you at odds with those who thought themselves better company for your friend to keep. She wouldn’t put up with such nonsense, not that you minded it all that much. You didn't have anyone, throwing themselves at your feet, over the wealth and fame over a name. One you didn't even feel the right to associate yourself with. Instead, you were just another middle schooler who was strangely acquainted with someone who others saw as highly desirable

It cemented your friend when she asked you to pick her up for a weekend shoot on a small bridge at the park. The modest one-floor house was surrounded by an unkempt yard and a rusted link chain fence. A rather loud argument pictures the walls as you watch every bit of movement you can see behind the crumpled curtains. Your fingers are anxiously twisting the strap slung over your shoulder, bag packed generously by Alfred with two lunches. Finally, hurling one last shout over her shoulder, Mj emerged. Her arm links with yours and before you can speak she’s all but dragging you down the street.

She didn't say anything until you two were in the middle of setting up your first shot. stumbling over her words, she tries to tell you that what you heard wasn’t really that bad, that her dad just had a few drinks, that really they weren’t even yelling, and actually it wasn’t something to worry about if you are worried. There was an abnormal casualty of which she spouts anything to pacify whatever she thinks your reaction will be. Only the deep sorrow in her eyes told you the truth of the pain and strife she was pushing down.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” You peer from behind the camera,

“Can I just.. complain about it?”

An appreciative smile pulls at her lips as you continue to capture her image. You didn’t expect an explanation, didn’t need one. She stopped trying to reason. Instead, she spoke, and you listened. Then, everything came almost at once, from her sister leaving to her father drinking and even her mother's illness. For a moment, you wonder if your father could do anything for her. You just as quickly push the naive thought away, why would such a man do something like that for a friend of yours?

Her lips curl into a satisfied smile as she clicks through the camera. “You know, you have a knack for catching my good side.” She tucks it away before tossing you a juice box from the bag.

“All your sides are good sides.” You hum, poking your straw through it.

This earns you an unstifled giggle, “Good answer, tiger.” Mj winks at you before tucking the camera back into its carry case, “Seriously, you've mastered the cam. Not that I want to lose my personal photographer, but have you considered joining the paper?”

You suck the last of the juice from the box with a raised brow, “I dunno, ‘might have to drop a few other things..” Swishing the contents as if contemplating. Really thought, it was an easy answer and you already decided to drop most of the clubs you only joined to fill time. Not to mention you were already familiar with helping and it was fun to work with your friend.

“Come on, me and you, together. I’ll do the writing and posing for pictures while you do the editing and taking pictures.” She clutches your hands in hers, fingers intertwined, “We’ll literally be the hottest journalist team.” Her emerald eyes are wide and pleading as she gazes up at you.

“Don't let her trick you into doing her work for her.” The scoff of another girl comes from behind you.

You recognized her as Gwen Stacy, another girl from your grade. She flips her blond hair over her shoulder as she makes her way onto the small bridge. The two of you had been using the foliage-obscured spot for your photo shoot. Coming to stand before them, blue eyes scanning Mj up and down. Mary Jane crosses her arms giving the scrutinizing look back.

She scoffs at the blond, “How do you know they don't want to?”

Gwen raises a brow at her, “Who would?” She offers back with a scoff of her own.

You jump in before proverbial knives can meet throats. “Actually, I like taking pictures for MJ.”

Gwen cocks her head at you, “Then join the photography club.”

Mj huffs, “Not if you want to actually, ya know, do something with your life.”

You step in again as the two wind up to take more jabs at each other. “Hey, um, ‘think I'll stick to what I've got..” Lifting the camera to Gwen she furrows her brows looking closer at your picture, “I've never even owned a camera before, but I'm having fun with Mj and I think doing the paper could be nice.”

She slips the device from your grasp, clicking through each picture. “You're actually really good..” Peeking up at you, she smiles sheepishly, “Can you take pictures of me too?”

While the two have their differences every now and then, you were always together. You left most of your clubs, having only picked them up for that void made by your family. Now you have people to fill the holes that they left behind.

While you'd never met, you’re familiar with the GCPD Captain, through your family's close ties with the commissioner. Who would have guessed that you would find yourself in his living room as Gwen dragged you along? Shaking his head with amusement as he watches he shut the two of you away in her room. Gwen had offered a hangout to help you with your scheduling if you helped her with her own. It was interesting to see all the things she was balancing. A focus in stem with an emphasis in chemistry but, with a blossoming interest in modeling.

Something she admits sheepishly, revealing the offer to do a small shoot she's been recruited for, “I sent in a headshot you did, and well I didn’t think I'd actually get it. Who knows..” She shrugged nonchalantly despite the turbulence on her face, “Maybe it'll help me with college too.” Legs stretching out across her bed, she nudges your shared piles of junk aside, her feet resting at your side.

You mirror her positing from the opposite end of her bed, “Collage? already?? I don't think we have to take it so seriously yet.” Collecting the pile of disheveled papers in your hands, you shuffle them off to the side to be put away later. “Not that getting in would be hard for you. I guess you already know what you want to be but, it's okay to have other interests.”

Smiling at her with reassurance infects her with a pull at her own, “I have a pretty good idea, yeah, and that's what I'm gonna shape myself into. Starting now.” Cerulean eyes scan over your current disastrous schedule of overbooking and under-appreciation, “Stretching yourself so thin isn’t going to make you.. well, whatever you’re trying to become.”

“I just want to be somebody.” It’s your turn to poorly shrug your worries off as if they never really sat all that heavily, to begin with.

“You of all people wanna be famous?” Gwen misinterprets, raising a golden brow at you.

Your face scrunches at the mere suggestion, “God no!” Busying yourself with sifting out your less favorable activities. Handing over everything you planned to keep up with, to the bewildered yet, inturged blond across from you.

Martial arts, Gymnastics, journalism, photography, coding, knitting, and you're still handing her more.. Looking them all over, she shakes her head with a chuckle, “You know what they say. Jack of all trades, they’re master of none.”

A hand slips over your head, rubbing at the back of your neck, “I just wanna be.. Worthwhile, I guess? I’ve just never felt like I was enough.” She set you with a concerned look that paints heat over the tops of your ears, “But I actually like these!”

She shuffles through your handful of flyers, sign-ups, papers, and the like for each, “Well, there’s more to that saying about a jack of all trades, right?” Scooting over to sit beside you, she bumps your shoulder with a soft smile. “They’re often better than a master of one.”

“Thanks.. I think?” Laughing, you bump her shoulder back. You get the sentiment at least, you think..

“Still might be good to cut some of these out. Don’t push yourself so hard.” Lifting flyers for both photography and the school paper, “I thought you were gonna pick one?”

Days spent without Alfred or the girls were the hardest. Roaming long halls, hearing your father and brother, who've been arguing more and more. Robin's role in leading his own team had left the house feeling emptier than usual. Hardly ever crossing paths with one another. Lately, it's even been putting a strain on the dynamic duo's relationship. You wonder if they noticed when you stopped reaching out. Not likely when they are falling apart themselves. Your little band of miscreants always softened the blow of coming home to the lonely Manor, you'd always see them tomorrow...

You spot your blond just outside the lunchroom doors. Nose stuck in her book before you settle in next to her, “Where's MJ?” You ask, pulling your bag from your shoulder.

“Ugh, late as always.” Snapping her book shut, she sighs, leaning into your side. “Are we supposed to hold up everything for her all the time?”

The two of you sit chatting as children flood to and from the cafeteria. You talk long enough for Gwen to get over Mj being late again, just in time for her to show.

“Heyyyy! Sorry, sorry!” The redhead plops between them and hooks an arm over each of her friends' shoulders. She pokes Gwen's puffed cheeks as she huffs, “Oh, don't look so grumpy!”

“We've got to wait for you, like, every day!”

Mary Jane shrugs, “So?”

You roll your eyes, “So, can't you ever get here on time?”

“It's called fashionably late for a reason.” Gwen gives you a look that you return, and the two of you walk away. Mj gasps, hurrying to catch up, “Wait!!”

They may be a bit dysfunctional but they were yours. Before you know it, they're closer to your heart than your so-called family. Alfred even tells you he's delighted to see you making these connections. Happy to host you and your friends when you finally decide to bring them around. Your little room on the far end of the manor is cleaned from top to bottom. An array of treats is accompanied by frequent check-ins, which led to many, many questions each time around.

“You've really had to spend so much time alone here?” Gwen makes herself comfortable in your desk chair.

“Oh, well, I have Alfred.” You scoot back on your bed, back pressed against the headboard. With a sigh your head bumps the wall, “... most of the time anyway.”

“This place is crazy..” MJ pulls open your closet, fuming and ready to tear apart your meager wardrobe. “I can't believe you're actually a Wayne. Your dad is Bruce freaking Wayne, why is he the worst?”

Grimacing as her chair spins slowly the blond grumbles, “Not that surprising from some fancy stuck-up rich boy.”

Green eyes flicker through each quick swish of a hanger, “Why doesn't everyone know? Don't people like that usually have a big announcement or whatever?” Mj turns those critical emeralds to you.

Slouching into yourself to escape the gaze, “I did not want that.”

Unimpressed with the answer, she huffs, “Still there have to be people who know about you, right? Your family is, like, super famous.”

“Wait!” Gwen perks up, feet hitting the ground to halt her cycle, “I think I have heard people talk about you.”

Heat claws its way up the back of your neck, catching onto your ears. “Wh- huh? Really??”

“Yeah, they call you- uh..” Her sudden realization seems to die in her throat, “Well, they call you, um..” Gwen combs a hand through her hair, aquamarines darting away from you, “Wayne unwanted... cause the Wayne's have never acknowledged you publicly.”

Mary Jane scoffs, “Or personally, apparently.”

You've only lived through this your whole life yet hear that you're known for your misfortune, to be watched but never seen...

The two of them were across the room before you even realized you were crying. They cuddled up on either side of you, squeezing you between them as they apologized. “No, no, it's okay..” You giggle through the sting in your chest, wrapping your arms around them.

Gwen gives you an almost offended look. “It is not okay.”

“You deserve so much better!” Mj tights her grip until you're begging for air.

They didn't make you feel othered like your family name or the intimidating manor. You knew they saw you, not a name, statue, money, power. Just you.

“Hey, would you..” Swallowing the nerves catching in your throat, you slide the paper across your lunch table. “Would you guys like to come to my competition?”

Mj snatches the paper up from the table, “Of course!”

The other scans the sheet with intrigue, “We'll be there, promise.” Gwen takes the paper from the redhead's hands, smoothing out her crinkles.

It always felt better to have someone there to root for you. Tonight, Alfred would be busy handling things for Bruce's ‘business trip’. Not that it matters because now, you have friends.

After the winners are called and you can part, Mary Jane is the first at your side. “You were great!”

“Really? Thanks..” Your face burns. You always felt Alfred was just being biased in his praises.

She swoops you up into a hug, “Absolutely, way to go, tiger!” Yet, it feels more real coming from your friends.

“Though, I don't really get it.” Gwen muses from the side, “You're such a wallflower. You hate the spotlight.”

The warmth in your cheeks raises again, “Yeah, well, so?”

Gwen's lips quirked into a frown, “So, why do these?”

“Seriously, like, no one's making you..” Mj raises a brow at you, “right?”

“No, I just.. I wish someone would come.” You sigh, shoulders slumping, “Just one of them. Even once.” No matter how they push you away, there's always that part of you that still wants them to come around.

An arm is thrown over your shoulder, “Well, you're great so, so... Fuck those guys!” The curse slips from Gwen in a half whisper of juvenile rebellion.

Another arm joins the first around your shoulders, “Exactly, Fuck them!” Mj giggles, grading on the use of profanity.

“Heh, yeah.. Fuck ‘em.” You smile despite the way your ears burn in superfluous fear of being scolded by Alfred for your language.

Nights were more exciting with your newfound love of photography. You collected pictures of the best and worst of Gotham. From sparkling main streets to eerily dark alleyways. Especially the growing stock of your star muses, Batman and Robin. You started putting together profiles from them, juxtaposing their day and night personas. Filing in the scraps of knowledge you've gathered from chasing after them. You kept the folders stuffed in your closet; embarrassed by your almost obsessive habit over people who disregard your existence.

Despite how he may treat you, when Dick came home with a bullet in his shoulder from the Joker, you cried. It felt silly when you realized they were falling. What was there to mourn if.. Alfred had been teaching you to take care of bigger wounds. You pleaded to assist his tending of your brother. Promising to feign cluelessness on your knowledge of the.. happenstance.

It wasn't until after his wound was cleared of debris and disinfected, that he noticed you. Trembling little fingers press the gause to his broad shoulder as Alfred prepares the bandage. His hand comes up to rest over yours, steadying it. Head snapping up to meet his gaze, there's something lurking in those sapphires of his.

A smile cracks its way deliberately across his weary face. It's too endearing of a look for him to give you. This was the first time it felt so sincere. The warmth of it burned at your frayed nerves. Sparked at cool embers of hope that he'd come around to you. Only when he's nearly died. It couldn't be real, but it hurt too much to be a dream.

“Thanks, Birdie. You didn't have to.” Dick's praise burns at your ears. It must be blood loss, a near-death experience, or something.

It feels too unnatural. You mumble out quietly, “Of course I did.”

Alfred relieves you of the tension, wrapping the bandage around and across. You’re left to stand off to the side before eventually being shuffled out of the room. The weight of his gaze is unrelenting until you finally step out of the room. You immediately miss it, realizing you've let such a rare moment of connection slip away. The sudden tender moment only made it harder to hear he'd left shortly after. He moved two states away to New York, leaving Robin behind for good.

He hadn't even bothered to say goodbye.

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Tag List?!

@butratherbutrather @dorkatron-2000 @mys0cksrwet @nervousalpacalady @notsamaira @facelessisnthere @danir2006 @ryuushou @sirenetheblogger @l3v1us

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nee-biter · 2 years ago

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A night with Miguel, Peter B, & MJ

what it would be like to spend a night with your husband, Miguel, and his hot married colleagues.

warnings: foursome, pnv sex, throat-fucking, degradation, wife-swapping 👁👁, it's just dirty

minors dni please

I feel like MJ would initiate it—

—or at least, influence you so that you'd think fucking with her and her husband would be such a great idea. She'd probably lean close to you, during a double date night, with you and Miguel and her and Peter B. And she'd start asking, "Do you and Miguel have other plans tonight?"

"Consider it, darling," She whispered, her finger grazing your thigh, while Miguel and Peter B fought over who would pay for dinner.

Miguel would pick up on your hints. Telling him that you wanted to visit MJ and Peter B's hotel room. A blush on your face—evident only when you have a favor to ask him. Timid eye contact between you and MJ. "What is it, mi amor?"

Miguel realized that the answer was perplexing. You, in your tight black dress, locking lips with his best friend's wife on the hotel bed.

Said best friend stared in awe, already half-hard at his wife sticking her tongue into you and squeezing your thighs with her freckled hands.

You liked that they were watching. You wished that Miguel would appreciate this display.

Oh boy, he did.

"Your turn," You said, out of breath, pointing between Miguel and Peter B.

The two of them scoffed, in denial of the tension and attraction between them. "If you don't do it, no pussy for either of you," MJ teased. Miguel was about to retort, but Peter B took that opportunity to crash his lips into the tough man's. Miguel grunted, instinctively grinding his hips into Peter B's waist.

'So that's what he tasted like.' Miguel thought.

You and MJ giggled, watching your two men rub their hard-ons against each other. When Miguel broke the kiss, he glared through the three of you. You were in for a long night.

No matter the rules the four of you tried to enforce—Don't kiss the man who's not your husband but you can ride his cock—No incriminating pet names—Keep the noise down—Wear a fucking condom—you still found yourself breaking them bit by bit.

Peter B's lips found yours as he was pounding into his wife's pussy. One of his hands firmly squeezed MJ's tits while he snaked a hand under your jaw to have you look at the way he fucked her.

Miguel, jealous and livid right behind you, pulled your hair back. His cock rammed into you, not giving you the time to adjust to his size. Two of his fingers spread your mouth open, letting you babble incoherently as he repeatedly bruised that spot in your walls that made you squeeze tightly on his cock.

"You whore, see if you like another cock better than this"

As you cried over and over again, MJ would whisper sweet nothings into your ear . "You're so beautiful being used like that, sweetheart." She pushed away the hair falling on your face. Peter B wrapped his hands on her ankles before turning her to you, her back on the bed—her pussy, glazed over with Peter B's precum, in front of you. "Want to please mommy too?"

While you were struggling to suck MJ's clit as Miguel harshly pounded into your pussy, Peter B got off the bed and positioned himself over his wife. "Dear, open up for me, please" She opened her mouth and he slid his cock inside as she lied down. You watched as his cock would disappear inside her mouth, plunging itself in her throat.

You whimpered at the sight, a sudden craving. Miguel once again caught on to your hints.

"You want that too, mi amor?" Miguel asked, his mouth curled upward into a smirk. He pulled out of you, knowing where you want his throbbing cock next.

I'll upload a part two -- here -- soon because this needs more exploration 😮‍💨

#spiderparents #mary jane parker #peter b parker #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #headcanon #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #atsv miguel #peter b parker x reader #peter b parker smut #mary jane watson #mj parker #spiderdads

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unholyhelbig · 17 days ago

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will you do werewolf!kate again? :3

Title: All Mine. All Mine. All Mine. [A Once Bitten, Twice the Idiot Oneshot]

Summary: Three Years into your stay at the compound, both you and Kate decide to take it to the next level. But the choice has some consequences that you weren't quite prepared for.

Trigger warnings[18+]: Fingering (r receiving), Edging (if you squint), biting, marking, claiming, A/B/O (If you squint, it's a werewolf story come on), slight overstimulation, shovel talks, mentions of drunk driving, death, cannon typical violence, horrible grammar- I don't proofread.

[A/n:Hell yeah you can have more! This is probably a little spicer than you wanted but it's been in my drafts for awhile and it's about damn time they fucking did this. Plus I've had a hard day, so they fuck nasty.]

Read the Full Series:

Her nose was glacier cold against the nape of your neck, exploring the expanse and breathing in the scent that lingered there. Kate had nipped the skin before, but didn’t quite bite down the way she wanted to, the way that every cell in her body screamed and pleaded for her to. She held herself over you, reveled in the way you pushed yourself closer, arched to feel her warmth with each desperate inhale.

“Katie, please.”

She smiled into your throat, you sounded so breathless, hand splayed against Kate’s chest, fingers curled just enough to create the slightest bit of sting. Kate shifted her knee and centered it against your core, drawing a moan from your lips. A perfect, beautiful moan that she wanted to hear over and over again until the day she died.

You grabbed her chin, directed her hazy eyes to your own, muzzy and glazed over but not too far gone, not just yet “Stop teasing, for the love of God, just fuck me.”

“Oh baby,” Kate mocked you, jutting out her lower lip “I don’t think you’re in the position to make demands right now.”

A frustrated and animalistic growl escaped you as you attempted to grind down on her clothed knee. It didn’t’ satiate a thing, not like you wanted it to. Kate silenced any further protests with another kiss, all teeth and tongue and licking hungrily into your mouth. It did the trick. Really, she was quite the expert with her tongue, and her fingers started to wander below the elastic waistband of your pants, making your stomach flutter in anticipation.

Kate wanted to bite you. God did she want to bite you. Of course she’d done it before. Multiple times in multiple places. It sent a rush through her in a way she couldn’t’ describe. You were hers and though the rest of the house knew that just by your intertwined scents, there was something invigorating about the temporary markings.

She didn’t’ want it to be temporary. She wanted to latch her teeth onto that one tender spot that meant more than that. The one her wolf knew claimed you as hers forever. Something that worked almost as a ring did for humans. Hell- Kate would get you a ring too. She’d get you a million rings. She’d get you anything your heart desired if it elicited delicious noises like the one that just rumbled through you when she swiped two fingers through your wet folds.

“Oh… fuck”

Your nails started to drag up her back, nose now in the crook of her neck, breath molten against a forbidden expanse of skin. You pulled her tighter against you as Kate slipped seamlessly into you. You couldn’t possibly get any closer to her, but you tried nonetheless as she fucked into you, slow and steady and sensual.

“K-Kate, shit, just like that.” You panted timidly “I need,”

“What baby?”

There was no uptilt to her voice this time. She’d cave in a second to whatever demand you purred out. Kate would drop to her knees in a second. She’d worship and kiss across every inch of your body. She felt you clench around her, mewl then swallow roughly as if building up to something. She knew you were close.

“Bite me, mark me.” You dug your nails in deeper. Kate stilled her movements, her chest heaving up and down in stuttered pants as her eyes softened from primal to something of wonder. She stared down at you, slightly pointed teeth glinting in the low-light of the waning moon. “Make me yours, I… fuck, Kate. I want this.”

“You’re…” She hesitated, that goofy grin that you loved so damn much on her face, strands of sweaty hair falling into her slate stare. “Not just saying that because I’m edging you right?”

“You’re edging me?”

“Was going to.”

“Well forget I said anything,”

Kate curled her fingers, and you whined, dragging your fingers across her chest, leaving pink marks raised across her collarbone. “Not something you can walk back on, darling. Those are some big words.”

You ghosted your lips against the sharp cut of her jaw, hot and tantalizing enough to raise goosebumps against every inch of Kate’s body. She shuddered against you, felt your devilish smile at her reaction , her fingers pumping slowly in and out of you, making your words wobble “Good thing I don’t want to walk back on it, Ah-”

Kate was robbed of your brilliant stare once more in exchange for a breathy, wonderous exhale. Your damp breasts pushed against the plush fabric of her bra. You’d voiced in the past how frustrating it was when you were nude and she was mostly clothed. A severe disadvantage for you to get your paws on her skin. But it gave Kate all the more opportunity to tease you.

“Can’t go back if I do this, baby.” Kate dropped her head back onto your shoulder. Your scent was so sweet, so primal. She felt an ache in her jaw, your wetness soaking into the sheets, sticky around her fingers and across your thighs as she worked you closer to pure bliss, adding a third finger. “You’re mine forever.”

“Wanna be yours.”

Kate could hear your own words slurring with lust, but more than anything, she knew what you sounded like when your teeth became too crowded for your mouth. When your wolf wanted something to bite into. Namely her. When your eyes shot back open, they were a deep and primal yellow, so golden they reminded Kate of the sunset, of hellfire.

Kate’s voice was a snarl “Say it again.”

“I want to be yours forever.”

Her breath quickened, a thrill rushing through her. Kate rewarded your obedience, brushing her thumb steadily over your swollen clit. Your breath pitched as you pressed into her. Kate knew you were getting closer, knew your tells. You were shivering underneath her, hands traveling from a desperate grip on her back to a gentle caress on her sides. Switching tactics from begging to coercing and pouting out of needy abandon.

Kate felt the saliva fill her mouth, licked a stripe across your collarbone and stopped right at the salted strip that she wanted to claim the most. She sped up, nipped lightly. She had to bite you first. But true to her nature, she dragged it out in an infuriating way.

It was embarrassing, the way you whined for her. “Katie, please.”

She smiled devilishly, so close and hot against the nave of your neck, before an even more delicious sensation filled out. The moan that you were meant to release died in your throat. Your orgasm ripped through you as you clenched around Kate’s fingers, her teeth sharp enough in your shoulder to touch bone.

There was no pain, only pleasure. So much pleasure you figured you were about to black out. Kate hummed happily into your shoulder, the heat of your blood spilling against the pillow combined with the rush of your slick against Kate’s palm was pure bliss, something she worked you diligently through.

Your body worked on instinct then. Over the combination of your heartbeats and the loud inner howl of the beast inside of you, you dug your own sharpened teeth into the expanse of unmarked skin between Kate’s neck and shoulder.

All mine. All mine. All mine.

The mantra was loud, almost deafening. The taste of Kate’s blood was sweet, so spiced, against your tongue. She trembled, moaned so sultry as your teeth sunk in. A blanket of understanding swept over you both, feelings so comforting and complete. As if two halves were melted together after resisting one another for centuries.

Kate released her bite, smoothing her tongue over the puncture marks in an effort to quell the sting. It was an instant balm. You groaned when her fingers were pulled from you as gently as she could manage, your noises muffled by her shoulder as you cleaned her own wounds with your tongue.

Primal. Instinct. You wanted so badly to care for her.

Her sweaty forehead pressed against yours as the two of you caught your breath. Covered in sweat and slick and blood. It was late into the night, and you were beyond thankful that Steve had splurged for soundproofing on the walls. Kate seemed to be thinking the same thing, both of you bursting into a fit of giggles, your hands moving to hide your face.

“Oh no, sweetheart. No getting shy on me now. You were just licking my shoulder a second ago.” Kate flopped onto her designated side of the bed with a groan. She had a dopey grin on her face as if she were the one who just got brought to orgasmic bliss.

A hum escaped you, eyes darting to the mark on Kate’s shoulder. It looked fresh in the pale moonlight. Pride filled your chest at the sight of it. You’d branded her, claimed her just as she’d done to you. You’d read about this over and over again in the library. The books were always at your disposal but there was nothing like this feeling. This rush of adrenaline.

You were eternally Kate’s, and she was eternally yours. Your wolves were intertwined. Your scents would mingle and your pulse’s would synch. She’d know when you were hurt and vice versa. There was a thrill to it. To knowing one another so intimately.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” Kate’s eyes were glossed over, an orange tint to them. “And mine. My girl.”

You curled into her side carefully, hand stretching over her bare stomach. She twitched, sensitive there. You could smell the metal of her blood. But you could smell yourself too. “All yours.” You sighed contentedly, tracing small patterns on her side, fingers eventually playing with the waistband of her pants. “Will you let me return the favor? Take care of you?”

Kate blinked at you tiredly, her smile lazy “You take care of me enough, darling.”

“You know what I mean.” Your fingers dipped lower. “I think… I can feel your heartbeat now.”

“Can you?” Kate seemed to catch her second wind, using her strength to pull you on top of her in a smooth motion. You could most definitely feel her heartbeat. It was rapid, impossibly to contain. She gazed up at you hungrily. “Care to test that theory?”

Natasha Romanoff stared dark green daggers directly at you. She hadn’t blinked in the last fifteen minutes, and she certainly hadn’t averted her attention in the last thirty. You’d let your cereal go soggy, the floaters spinning around milk that had turned a sickly gray. She took a bite of dry toast, chewing slowly. Still not taking her eyes off you.

The easy conversation at the kitchen table seemed to float naturally around you. Not many people converged for breakfast. The most vigilant today being the woman who had clocked you the second you walked in. Peter was excitedly rambling to Thor about his latest video game and Wanda, if she had noticed her wife’s staring problem, promptly ignored it in favor for the pancakes she was preparing.

You tried your darndest to focus back on your meal. But you couldn’t’ very well ignore the Beta’s attention. It made you sit up straighter, almost like the top of your spine was tied with fishing line and pulled taut with a string.

Kate, while you loved her dearly, had some business to attend to in the city with Clint. You silently cursed her. Would have not so silently if there wasn’t a high-ranking pack member watching your every move. Not that you were moving very much. Or at all. You subconsciously scratched at the bite on your shoulder, hidden by the black of your t-shirt and a bandage soaked in herbs to dull the scent.

While there was nothing to be ashamed of about the fact that you and Kate had officially exchanged bites, it wasn’t something you wanted to shout from the rooftops just yet. It was a big deal. It could change the dynamics of the home that you lived in. The people that you lived with.

“Natalia, stop slouching.” Wanda had finally joined the table, tapping her partner on the shoulder before setting a plate in front of her. There was a momentary relief. The spell seeming to break. “Ty povredish' spinu.”

She scrunched her nose, huffed, but picked up her fork like an admonished child before digging into her eggs and returning her stare back to you. This time, it was softer, but still curious, following the way your hand cupped your shoulder. The pressure was soothing over the ever-healing bite. It would be weeks until it scarred over.

“Y/n, is that all you’re eating?” Wanda asked “There’s some extra food on the stove. Help yourself.”

“I’m not very hungry,” You smiled, “Thank you though.”

Natasha lilted her head “Is your shoulder bothering you?”

“No, no. Just a little tired.”

You shook your head and stood quickly from your chair, the legs scraping against the linoleum. It caught the attention of Thor and Peter, a lull in their conversation at the sky darkened outside. You could smell the rain in the air. The last thing you wanted was to be trapped in the house with Natasha today. In the confines with any of them where they could corner and grill you. You placed the bowl in the sink and rinsed it to keep from answering any questions.

It was hard to keep things from Natasha, harder to keep things from Wanda. They’d been in synch with each other longer than you’d been alive. The Sokovian stared at you with a curiousness now that you couldn’t escape.

You’d nearly squeaked when Kate said she’d be away today. Not in the needy way, but in the panicky way that screamed ‘I can’t be left alone with these people’. Especially the two women who chewed slowly in front of you now.

It didn’t help that you awkwardly saluted before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and retreating to the library upstairs. Your safe space. A space where you’d dutifully worked your way through all of the werewolf fiction and non-fiction at your disposal before moving on to the rest of the leather-bound fantasy that Steve had collected over the years.

A summer thunderstorm had started up in earnest now, leaving you with the orange glow of lamplight as sheets of rain sheathed the large bay windows in a dull gray. You found yourself curled up on the window seat, a blanket over your legs, watching the forest sway through the distorted glass. You weren’t getting much reading done. But you were thankfully alone. At least for a while.

Until you caught their scent.

They had the decency to knock like any parental figure did. It didn’t’ stop you from jolting and pulling the throw blanket up to your chin like it would protect you from their wrath. Your heart was in your throat, and you let out a measly “Come in” as you folded your pages over a bookmark, eyes wide.

Wanda was meant to disarm you. That’s why she entered first. She was a softer presence with her ease of a smile and fern-colored eyes. Her oversized cardigan that compensated for the chill of the rain. When it came down to it, you were more frightened of her. She drew harder lines and was more difficult to convince when you wanted something. The difficult parent.

Natasha followed. A hard scowl on her features. One that you could soften if you pouted hard enough. Not that you wanted to test that theory. You knew damn well that she’d caught your scent earlier. They were cornering you due to the fact and without Kate here you were very liable to crack.

“What are you reading?” Wanda asked.

“Not really reading. Watching the storm.” You shrugged, attempted to hide the wince as the bandage pulled at the sensitive skin around your bite. Warmth pooled in your gut in compensation. “It’s really coming down out there.”

You’d returned your attention to the collection of water at the edge of the tree line. Wanda sat on the other end of the window seat, Natasha at her feet with a throw pillow hugged to her chest. She looked softer down there, unassuming compared to the scrutinization in the kitchen. You didn’t outwardly look at either of them.

“They’ll make it back safely. Clint’s one hell of a driver.” Natasha assured softly. Her fingers played with the edge of the throw pillow. “It’s normal to feel more anxiety when you’re separated from your mate during a storm.”

You swallowed thickly, but didn’t take your eyes away from the windowpane. The slush of water was more interesting. At least, you told yourself that. There was a distinct uptick in your heartbeat that you knew both Wanda and Natasha could hear. It was deafening compared to the thunder that rumbled past the compound walls.

“malen'kiy volk” Wanda nudged your knee softly with her own.

Her affectionate nickname was enough of a nudge already. Yelena had adopted the nickname after your first transition, always ribbing you for how small your wolf form was compared to the rest of them, slowly growing in stature and size and strength. The nickname seemed to stick regardless of your posturing now. You were nearly the same height as Kate, but didn’t match her intimidation.

Her pitch fur, her dark fulvous eyes. If she crouched down low to the ground and let a rumble from deep in her chest, she could startle something fierce. Sometimes, most times, you couldn’t imagine how you’d gotten so far in the first place. That night that you were darting through the woods. You’d both come so far, grown into yourselves and into one another.

“Not so little anymore.” Natasha grumbled what you all were thinking as if she were a wary parent. It’d been three long years since you’d moved into the compound. She seemed like a disgruntled mom, her fingers flexing around the pillow. “Was this… impulsive?”

“Legko, Natalia”

You weren’t outwardly going to admit to anything. There was nothing to admit to. Not without Kate here. For all either of them knew, you were sitting in your little nook reading a fantasy book in the middle of a storm. All of you could pick up on the scent of the rain, down-trodden and filling the room with a heavy feeling. A damp one that coated your skin.

“If we’re talking in hypotheticals here,”

“Which we are” Wanda purred out “Strictly.”

“Right. Then no. It was not impulsive. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been sure of in my entire life. Long before that first night in the woods when Kate” you frowned, swallowed the dryness in your throat “When Kate lost control, there was something missing, she was missing. It’s easy, you know? To mistake comfort for safety and safety for love but with Kate, with Kate it’s all three. With Kate, it’s everything. She’s everything.” You finally met Natasha’s eyes in understanding. “Hypothetically.”

“startling, isn’t it?” Wanda asked, hazel eyes filled with stars “How subtly we fall in love.”

“Sometimes it helps when you accidently pour gourmet coffee on them. They find it charming.

“No, they do not.”

A comfortable silence lulled over the three of you. Wanda and Natasha were to only two mated in the house. At least, they were. Clint had a wife, had children of his own that he spent time with just outside of the compound. He’d travel back and fourth throughout the day, but preferred his space. And a few looks were exchanged between Tony and Bruce that lingered, but no one ever dared to mention it.

The soft thud of a car door and the way your entire body thrummed with familiarity alerted you to Kate’s return to the compound. A blush inadvertently shaded your cheeks, head turning towards the library door. You could sense the way Wanda and Natasha smiled unabashedly at your barely contained excitement.

“It’ll feel like that for,” Wanda tried to pinpoint when it stopped, couldn’t seem to. “It’ll feel like that.”

You blew a fond breath from your nose, knees pulled tight against your chest as you rested your chin against them, perfectly content. Kate would find you. She always did. And until then, you were surrounded by the warmth of Wanda and Natasha and the storm. A beautiful family. A quiet hodgepodge of beasts.

When Kate entered, she did so hesitantly. She could probably scent Natasha and Wanda and yourself, crowded amongst the books, the stories that lie there. Her hair was damp and stringy with water, clinging to her forehead and soaked through her jacket. Standing there, in the doorway, you wanted nothing more than to accept her into your arms, to warm her diligently with heat that was your own.

However, the hardness in Natasha’s stare, the way the beta rose to her feet, kept you in your place. You had a deep sense that her shovel talking was going to be worse than yours. A lot worse. With the pillow discarded and Wanda rolling her eyes but keeping a comfortable hand on your calf with a gentle squeeze. A fond warning to keep whatever growl that threatened to bubble up deep in your throat.

Natasha’s hand wicked into Kate’s shirt as she backed her into the nearest wall. “You marked her, huh pup?”

“What? I don’t… would you believe me if I said no?”

The deep snarl that Nat let out was a decisive answer to Kate’s floundering. You wanted to feel bad, really. But you knew that Natasha was posturing and Kate was digging her own grave by stumbling through little fibs that probably tasted bad on her tongue. If there was real panic, you would feel it.

“Okay, okay” She swallowed hard “Natasha, I love her. It’s not like the first time. Not my wolf stirring something deep and wild within me that was uncontrollable and feral. I can’t apologize for that day enough. I can’t. But I don’t regret it because I wouldn’t have her now.”

Natasha’s hold loosened, but the intensity of her stare remained. Kate’s head thumped against the wall, chest heaving. She’d been through this song and dance before, as had you. On more than one occasion you’d answered to Natasha’s anger. To Steve’s sternness.

Kate’s head lolled to the side, a lazy smile on her face, she repeated. “I love her. So goddamn much. And the second we exchanged bites, something washed over me that I never thought I’d have. And I know what you’re doing. I know you feel some type of responsibility as a parent here because neither of us...”

She swallowed hard, averting her stare. Natahsa had released her hold entirely, stare softening to something of affection and hand splayed over Kate’s chest. Their breaths had evened out.

“I’m not going to hurt her Nat. I’d never hurt her.”

After a few deep breaths, Natasha patted her roughly on the cheek a few times. “Okay, kid. Okay.”

“Natasha,” Kate said softly, grabbing softly at the woman’s wrist. Instinctively the redhead swept her thumb over rain-tinged skin. “We appreciate you. Both of you. For being there. For taking care of us.”

“Thank you for letting us care.” Natasha whispered, smoothing away rain, and maybe something more.

Steve Rodgers brought the axe down with a practiced crack on the center of the log. It halved with a deafening echo, just as the last twelve had. The scent of pine filled your lungs. Each half falling to the side before Steve picked them up and tossed them into the pile with the rest. He did so with ease, didn’t’ pay any mind to you and Kate as you watched him.

He only did this when he was stressed. Went out to his happy place, a beautiful spot next to the lake. You could see why he enjoyed it so much. The clean air was a sedative to any type of anxiety that you had about speaking with him. You hoped it dulled the mix of your combined scents.

Kate had her hand on the small of her back. Both of your postures were assured. Your hands were clasped at the front and Kate’s jaw was steady, hardly showing the fear that you both admittedly felt. Eventually, after another three logs, Steve panted and let the tip of the axe remain in dirt, his blue stare flicking between you both. He pulled in a damp breath, edges of his lips pulled back from exertion.

“Something you two want to tell me?”

You didn’t want to throw Kate under the bus. That would just be rude. But she had fed you to the wolves at breakfast yesterday so could she really blame you for giving her a little shove forward that attracted Steves stare her way? She probably would later. But for now, she didn’t even protest.

“Steve, sir. Hi. Is that a new shirt? It looks fantastic.”

“Kate.”

“It’s a nice shirt.” She defended.

“What she means to say, sir.” You stepped forward, rescuing your mate from shoving her paw further into her mouth. “Is that we did… have something to tell you about. Though, I’m sure Natasha has already spoken with you.”

Steve had a coy smile on his face, watching the way you smoothed your hand over Kate’s arm until you joined hands with hers. The warmth was overwhelming, her scent tantalizing and cool in your lungs. You wanted to lean your entire weight against her. The excitement of the day was starting to weigh on you, but you maintained a level of respect for the man in front of you.

He chuckled, shook his head “Y/n, you remind me of my mate.”

It was impossible to hide your shock. Both yours and Kate’s eyes widened at the same time, studying Steve as if he had grown a second head. He may as well have. In the years that you had known him, he had never mentioned having one. From the way Kate’s pulse picked up against your joined wrists, you figured she was in the same boat as you. Her perfectly shaped eyebrow lifted, head lilting in curiosity.

“She uh, she died in 2016. When you grow up with what we are in your veins it’s easy to forget how something as simple as a drunk driver can take things away from us.” Steve clenched and unclenched his jaw, held his eyes contact but shoved his hands into his pockets to keep his fingers from trembling. “We’re not invincible.”

“What was her name?” You whispered.

“Peggy” Steve beamed a brilliant smile “She was as stubborn as you could get. She had her values and would not let you forget it. But she was caring, loyal and kind. So, kind. And most importantly, she was there when I needed her. She was my rock.”

When he shook his head, he did so to reorient himself, to situate the fondness that overtook him. Steve had more heart than anyone you had ever encountered. It oozed off him. It made following his orders on the night of a full moon effortless. When there wasn’t a full moon, you’d follow him into war without question.

“From the outside, I might look like I have it together. But behind every man. Behind every woman is a support system. And for me, that was Peggy. For you, Kate, from day one, I knew that was y/n. It was only a matter of time. And I’m not going to waste my time threatening you into treating her the way she deserves or vice versa. I know you both will. I know what fate looks like.”

He picked up his axe, the dirt crumbling as it dislodged. Another log ended up on the pedestal. “As for pack dynamics, we’ll figure it out as it comes. We always do. Ranks change, people change. I don’t want either of you to worry about that. Enjoy your honeymoon phase just… for the love of god, lock the door.”

Kate laughed, not trying to hide the blush on her cheeks. “Thank you, sir, of course.”

“Captain,” You asked, giving Kate’s hand a squeeze to keep her in place. “Who helps you keep it together now?”

Steve let out an amused breath, the sweat on his brown glinting in the orange light of the sun. He brought the axe down on the log and you watched as it split perfectly in two, each half falling with a dull thud to the sides. “All of you. My family.”

#Kate Bishop #Kate Bishop x reader #Kate Bishop x y/n #Kate Bishop x you #kate bishop x female reader #wanda Maximoff #Natasha Romanoff #Wandanat #Steve Rodgers #Tony Stark #thor odinson #bruce banner #peter parker #yelena belova #Werewolf au #Mj watson #America Chavez

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yourmomsgranddad · 4 months ago

Text

— THERE GOES THE SPIDER

— PAIRING: Kate Bishop x fem!Stark!reader

— SUMMARY: How do you lose a man? (You forget to cherish him.)

— WORD COUNT: 4.8k

— WARNINGS: based off the episode of 9-1-1, but also hangover, peter and mj wedding, reader and peter dated in the past, reader is a lesbian, peter and y/n being the best friends, cursing

You groaned as your eyes broke open.

What happened last night?

You looked around the room and you didn't recognize anything around you.

You weren't in your room at home. You weren't in Peter's room at his apartment. The bedding was too nice and you could see the living room from the bed.

This was a hotel.

When did you get to a hotel?

A soft groan could be heard beside you. Your eyes went wide. You didn't want to move. Who did you go to bed with last night?!

"Where the hell am I?" The mystery person voiced.

You reached over to grab the blanket and cover your face. You were suddenly embarrassed. You recognized that voice.

You almost didn't want to breathe in fear of her spotting you.

"Who is that?" She shoved, pushing you slightly but you kept the blanket in place, not showing anything.

"It's me, Kate."

Sound stopped, she knew your voice too.

You slowly brought the blanket down, causing her to hit you with her pillow. "What are you doing in my bed? And why are you wearing a bright pink quinceañera dress?"

You looked down in confusion and surely enough, she wasn't lying. Underneath the plush white hotel blanket laid a bunch of pink poofs covered in pink glitter that seemed to have painted the sheets beneath you.

"I don't know what's weirder about this situation. The fact I'm wearing a quinceañera dress or that you know what that is." Kate's lips made a thin line as if she was embarrassed by how she knew what they were. But you didn't feel the need to peel that back, there were more pressing matters at the moment.

You went back to scanning the room as if you weren't in bed with one of your best friends at the moment.

The room seemed to be trashed. Piles and piles of food containers opened on the floor and whatever its contents were caked in the carpet. Another pile of jackets on top of a very huge spill. And what seemed to be a snoring body underneath a throw.

You squinted for a second, making sure you were sure until your eyes went wide. "I think there's someone over there." You told Kate whose eyes went right to where you were looking, her face reflecting yours.

Kate was quick to leave the bed, going to search it immediately. But she fell back into the bed as if something was weighing her down.

She looked down at her hand and weirdly enough, there was a handcuff around it.

You both physically paused, looking at each other in astonishment.

"This all seems eerily familiar."

You squinted your eyes in suspicion while Kate identified the cuff. It seemed to be connected to a chain which she followed under to the pillow. She lifted it up, revealing a very sparkly pink suitcase.

"Where the fuck did that come from?!" Kate shouted, looking at the suitcase in terror.

"What happened last night?" You rubbed your head. At this point, that question was rhetorical, neither of you knew the answer and you were just waiting for someone to yell out all the answers.

Suddenly the body on the couch began to move, moving the blanket off of his face as he woke up.

Both you and Kate stared at the action in anticipation.

Out popped bright silver hair that was absolutely rustled in every way possible. You would recognize it anywhere.

You jumped out of bed, crawling over to the couch.

You gave him a harsh shove until his eyes opened. He gave a sleepy smile that made you somehow a little more mad about your situation.

"Cute dress." He commented, his deep Sokovian accent cutting through the silence.

"Dude! Where are we? Why is Kate handcuffed to a sparkly suitcase?" You basically shook him even harder which wasn't agreeing with the alcohol that was definitely still in his system.

"Not sure, still drunk, ask Ned." He muttered before falling back into his pillow and closing his eyes.

"Where is he?" You wondered loudly, shaking him again, more agitated than before. Pietro reached for the pillow by his feet, lifted it up, and threw it presumably at Ned's position, all with his eyes closed.

"Ned!" He shouted.

Just then Ned rose up from the stained jacket pile, looking like a zombie, pushing them all to the ground. You watched in disgust, your expression reflected on Kate's face as well.

"You're sitting in a stain, Ned!" You complained, a whine apparent in your speech. You felt bad for him but he didn't seem concerned.

"It's fine, it's only vodka. I'm soaking it up in my pants." He nodded it off as if it wasn't that important. But on the list of the things of most importance, it was at the bottom.

"Where are we?" Kate shouted from the bed. Everyone's eyes went to her as they didn't even know she were here.

"Oh easy. We're in Peter's hotel room. This is the one Mister Stark got for him since he wanted to keep with the tradition of not sleeping next to the bride the night before the wedding."

You and Kate let out a tiny breath; one question off the list.

"Where's Peter, Ned?" You felt like this was an obvious question but you still felt the need to ask it.

"Oh I don't know." He fell back into his leakage.

You looked down at the floor, what were you going to do? And where was Peter?

A loud knock was heard on the front door.

"Yo, Pete!" Your recognized that voice of your father. You shivered as if you were getting in trouble as a kid. "Better get a move on, kid! I'm not the one getting married today! You are!"

What to do? What to do?!

"Um Peter will be up in a second, Dad! We're still trying to wake him up." You lied, you looked behind you to see Kate making a disappointed face at you. But you couldn't take back your lie.

"Tell him we need to put feet on the ground. MJ's not going to wait all day!" Then as quickly as he came, you could hear his shoes step away from the door and you knew you were in the clear.

Jeez, what happened last night?

The night started off so normal too.

You were sitting on Peter's bed and he was switching between ties nervously.

"Which one, seriously?" He turned to you but you could not be anymore uninterested.

"Who cares what I think? Choose whatever tie you want."

"You should. It's the tie you're going to have to sit next to all night."

You lit up immediately, grabbing the one beside you, throwing it across the room. "Well burn that orange monstrosity."

"Oh come on, Y/n. How are you a lesbian and hate the color orange?"

"Not every woman who likes women is a lesbian, douche-rag! But I don't know." You deflated. He kind of got you in a box. He couldn't help but chuckle before looking at you concerned and confused.

"Did you date me because I looked like a girl?"

"No. Actually, I broke up with you because you didn't. But who cares? You're getting married tomorrow!"

"Just—i'm worried. What if, in a few years, one of MJ's friends convince her that I look girly and that she should divorce me? I couldn't handle that. And neither will Luke and Leia, our future kids who will get separated in the divorce. They won't survive, Y/n!"

His voice was strained as he began biting his nails.

How had this nervous wreck created one of the best proposals ever seen, said so from Ned?

"Well MJ is smarter than that. One. And two, I'm friends with her and I promise I won't badmouth you." He let out a chuckle, the first one since you had gotten here.

He texted you and told you it was urgent.

Who knew urgent meant what he should wear tonight; tonight was his bachelor party.

"I don't know what I'm worried about. She wouldn't have said yes if she didn't mean it." You nodded.

"It's going to be fine, Parker!" You reassured him as you walked over to him, standing behind him in the mirror. "We're going to party very hard tonight and then tomorrow is going to be the greatest day of your life, okay?"

"I invited Kate," he muttered, his eyes closed as he didn't want to see the look on your face, he already knew what it looked like.

"MJ's about to be a widow."

You raised your hand to hit him as he flinched and ducked.

"We're not married yet! Don't hurt me! I'm just trying to help you!" He stood up slowly, causing you to put your hand down in anger, instead vying to cross your arms.

"You two like each other! I'm just removing a few obstacles, jeez!"

"Y/n? Y/n!"

You zapped back to the present, looking at Kate who was shouting down at you, she was now standing in front of you, suitcase dangling beside her.

"What are we going to do?! We don't know where Peter is! He's supposed to be getting married in a few hours."

So many questions.

And no answers came to your mind.

Your eyes began darting around the room, looking for something, anything to help you.

But there was nothing.

You glanced at the clock.

It was 12:45.

Peter was getting married at 4.

You had time.

"Ok, here's what we're going to do. We have at least 2 hours before Peter has to be at the altar. The location is only a few minutes away. That means we have to find him ourselves before my dad or MJ start freaking out, okay?" Everyone nodded, taking in what you said.

"So are we going to do in the meantime?" Kate wondered, not looking at you, more examining the weird case still attached to her wrist.

"This hotel has a dry cleaner, I know that for a fact. Our clothes should be down there. I'll take Pietro with me, we'll get our clothes and some coffee in his system. Kate, you see if you can get the case off your hand or the stain out the carpet."

You all nodded and you were gone, grabbing Pietro and going to the door.

"Um, it says here, Miss Stark, your dry cleaning was delivered to your room. No one was in there so they left it on the bed."

You and Pietro looked at each other in confusion. "No one? We just left the room and there were two people in it." You mentioned. The man behind the counter began typing violently.

"Nope, no one was seen when they dropped off your clothes."

You were beginning to make a timeline of events in your mind.

You remembered seeing Peter last night but he wasn't in the room with the rest of you.

You know you were in the room a few minutes ago.

But for some reason, it wasn't on the hotel's radar.

Now you were wondering even bigger; what the fuck happened last night?

"So many questions arise, all unanswered." Ned replied. You had relayed all the facts you had gotten from the man at the front desk and it didn't give anything helpful.

You tried to think, to keep everything in your mind clearly but it was kind of hard considering Ned's butt was in front of the fan; apparently that's how he was going to get the vodka out of his pants; it was not working in the slightest.

You looked around the room, maybe something would pop out and scream at you.

A wrapper.

You jumped out of your seat rapidly and flew over to the bed. Weirdly enough, it was wedged in between the bed and the floor. You fished it out with ease.

Why did it look so familiar?

"What's that?" Pietro wondered, taking a sip of his coffee, looking at you as if you were crazy.

But you didn't notice; your brain was calculating where you knew it from.

Lightbulb!

Your eyes went wide as you looked at your friends with urgency in your eyes.

"I know where to look next."

Running down the street Home Alone-style was not easy in a quinceañera dress, you were learning.

But you were determined for answers to your questions.

And your questions lead you to a place of absolute familiarity; Delmar's sandwich shop, a place you knew all too well considering it's one of Peter's favorite places. It made sense that's where you would get answers.

You pushed through the door and slammed the counter as if he owed you money. Mr. Delmar was immediately startled.

"Miss Stark, what are you doing here? The wedding is happening soon!" He stressed; he was aware of the schedule as well, he WAS invited.

"I understand that, Mister Delmar, believe me, I do. But I'm here because I think we came here last night." Your tone couldn't sound more unsure, you weren't absolutely confident of your words. But you hoped he could give you some type of certainty.

Luckily, he seemed to know what you were grabbing at.

"Yes, you did."

As Mr. Delmar recounted what he remembered from your visit to his shop last night, you could feel your memories returning.

Peter could tell how awkward things were between you and Kate were considering you hadn't said anything to her as she entered the limo that your dad bought you. Although your eyes hadn't left her once.

He didn't know how to bring you two together. He scooted closer to you and just gave you a look; a look you wished he would stop giving you. A look that just spoke 'tell me now, whatever it is'.

"Staring is rude. Why don't you talk to her?" He asked, trying to be subtle. Limos weren't exactly private places.

"What would I say to her, Pete? 'I think you're pretty, you should kiss my mouth?'"

"Yes, that's exactly what you should say to her."

You rolled your eyes, he couldn't be serious.

"I'm not joking, Y/n/n. It worked with MJ."

"But you and MJ were made for each other, America's favorite couple. I don't even know if Kate's gay."

*She was wearing a suit to the night's events.

"Something tells me she might be."

Your face crumpled as you looked at him incredulously. "Why should I listen to your gaydar? We dated for a year!" You whisper-shouted.

His face reflected yours. "Girl, we dated for a year! Why should I listen to you?!" You couldn't hide the giggle that spat from your mouth, he wasn't wrong.

"All I'm saying is that I might not be able to talk to her comfortably until I've had a few drinks and something to eat."

His eyebrow raised; Peter smelled something he could help with.

Just then, he leaned forward, grabbing two champagne glasses and a full bottle of champagne.

"One of those things I can help out with right now," he began as he was pouring you both a drink immediately. "The other thing?" He banged on the window, grabbing the driver's attention so he would roll the partition down.

"Take us to Delmar's please."

He nodded as your smile began to grow. You hated that he knew you so well.

"So Peter was with us when we got here." Sadly Ned was voicing the one thing that was bouncing off your head. But you dare not ask that question; you wouldn't get the answer that you want.

"Did we say anything about where we were going next, Mister Delmar?"

He shook his head, causing your panic to grow.

"Your mouths were full of sandwich. All I know is that you were yelling at the man driving you, unintelligible nonsense."

Driver? Dang, you forgot Happy was driving you all night. Maybe he had some answers!

"Thanks, Mr. Delmar, for your help. I'll see you at the wedding later." He nodded solemnly.

As you were slumping out of the store with a destination, you could hear briefly under Pietro's breath, "If there is a wedding."

You turned around immediately, stopping everyone from exiting.

"What if I just killed you right now? With my bare hands." You threatened, your face not matching your words.

His eyes squinted; he wasn't about to back down.

"How would that look? 'Daughter of famous tech tycoon kills boy from starving country.' Say goodbye to your poofy dresses, prinţesă." He fluffed your dress before running off at full speed.

"I hate him so bad." You jokingly said into the sky, your eyes fully closed.

"If it makes you feel better," your eyes opened to reveal Kate standing in front of you, struggling to hold her suitcase. "You are working that dress."

You knew she was only joking but it didn't stop the heat that fanned your cheeks.

But that wasn't important right now.

Finding Peter was.

So you both set off down the street, going where you knew you shouldn't.

The wedding venue.

Everyone's eyes were on you. It was fair, you were in a pink poofy dress, it was out of the norm. Especially at your best friend's wedding.

You found Happy immediately.

Luckily, he was doing what you expecting him to be doing; bothering Aunt May while she was helping.

"Hey, Happy. Do you think you can come over and answer this question?" You wondered, looking around, hoping no one was looking at you (everyone was).

"Where did the dress come fr-" You didn't give him time to finish, grabbing him and snatching him off to the side. He was going to take too long to get there anyway.

"Where did we go last night?!" You whispered, maybe gripping Happy a little too hard.

"The sandwich shop." He seemed a little nonchalant. You wondered if he would remain that way when he noticed Peter was missing.

"After!" Kate shoved, accidentally hitting him with the suitcase.

"Where did that suitcase come from?!" He rubbed the spot.

"That's what we want to know!" Kate shook with anticipation.

"Um, after the sandwich shop, you guys made me take you to a bachelorette party that was happening at a hotel close-by. I was confused but okay." He shortly explained; you felt it coming back.

You guys had a few more drinks in the limo and eventually you started losing it. But you weren't at the point where you felt like you could talk to Kate.

"Maybe if we had a better setting." You slurred to Peter as you were buying your sandwiches.

You didn't know how you got so drunk, it felt like you only had one drink. But you didn't count.

Suddenly, Pietro came slumping in, grabbing you and Peter by the shoulder so you could hear him better. "These bachelorette girls just invited us to their party. It's at a hotel down the street. Can we go?"

On a normal night, Peter was known to say 'no' to all Pietro's weird single activities—he invited Peter to a lot and he had to keep telling him he's engaged—but tonight for a reason that was not apparent to you yet, he said yes.

Pietro skipped up in glee, he was lucky you were drunk. Or else, you would made fun of him all night.

You gave your best friend a sideways glance, this was unlike him. But he just gave you a smirk. "Found your setting."

He grabbed your done sandwiches and your arm before running back to the limo.

"Being surrounded by all those drunk girls, you can try out your lines. Get out your jitters before you try going for the big leagues." Peter slurred. You wanted to blame it on the beer googles but he was making some type of sense. You had no problem talking to random girls, Kate was the thing you were scared of.

—

You found yourself being very comfortable with the bachelorette girls. It was very easy, they weren't looking for anything and neither were you.

You were just having fun. And drinking. A lot.

You had lost Peter and the others as you got into the party, you figured they were just having fun.

That was until Pietro found you, looking very frightened.

"What's up, P?" You wondered, mid drink. "I thought I was hitting on one of the bridesmaids. It was the bride and her soon-to-be husband wants to kill me. We have to go." He grabbed your hand and basically dragged you back to the group. Well Ned.

Ned was hanging out at the door, chatting up some girl when you came up to him, out of breath. While Pietro recounted what he said to you, you noticed something.

"Ned, where are Peter and Kate?"

"Forgetting their son and leaving him home alone?" He joked, making both boys let out a drunken giggle.

"No. Peter Parker and Kate Bishop." He shrugged.

"And that's all I know." Happy finished. "I lost you guys after that. New York is a big city." He seemed nonchalant as if the groom wasn't missing.

"But if Kate was with Peter and we have Kate with us, where's Peter?" Pietro inquired, already trying to get his hands on their finger foods.

"He's at the hotel." MJ came out of nowhere, smacking his hand before he could touch. You all froze, you didn't know how to finish having your conversation with her there. "He's not missing."

"Huh?" You, Pietro, and Kate all shouted at the same time, causing all the eyes to turn back to you.

"Peter? He's at your hotel." She also seemed a little too nonchalant but that was just MJ's aura. "How do you know this?" Kate said.

"Because you called me."

You all shared looks, hoping you all would just know the answer from just seeing one another.

"You called me crying, saying I was going to be a widow because you lost Peter. I had to explain to you that's not how that works. And we found him and Kate fighting a bunch of drag queens in front of a bank. They were robbing it." MJ explained, very deadpan.

"Is that a hate crime? That feels like a hate crime." Ned mentioned before he joined Pietro in his quest to grab the hors d'oeuvres.

"Wait. Is that where the suitcase came from?" MJ gave a nod. "It's full of cash. I called the cops but it's New York, there was a million muggings happening, people getting shot. So you decided to keep it. I don't know why you hand-cuffed it to yourself."

"In the hotel?" That was the part you were stuck on. "Where? We were in the room. He wasn't there."

"You lost Peter?!" You froze at the sound of his voice. You felt like you were in high school again. You turned around slowly to see your dad, seething. At least it wasn't May.

"Kind of. He wasn't in the room when we woke up."

He wanted to question the dress but it was last on the list.

"I don't know how not. I sent you guys up the elevator and I saw you go to the room." MJ seemed confused but now since she drew the lines, you could perfectly color in the picture of the rest of the night.

"We were kind of pissed you ended our night. So we left out the back stairway." You explained, your mouth a thin line. "And Peter didn't come with us. He wanted to go to bed. So he went in the room."

"Well what was the number of the room he went into?" Your dad was now playing detective with the rest of the group. Luckily you could see clearly now. "297, the room we woke up in."

Without any type of warning, you let out a loud gasp, catching everyone's attention.

"We were in the wrong room!"

That was all you said before you took off, out of the venue with everyone following after you.

"We were in 297. But I guess since we were drunk, the number got jumbled and Peter realized." You clarified as you trudged through the hotel hallway, holding the pink madness so you didn't trip.

"He went to the right room and we didn't notice because we were out of it."

You finally were in front of the room, now you all froze.

Something hung in between all of you and none of you wanted to say it out loud.

"What if he actually lost?" Well, Pietro wanted to say it.

"Shut up!"

Your hand paused before it scanned the key on the door. You bursted inside with hope but...

"He's not here."

You sunk. You were sure you were correct. You saw him come into this room. If he wasn't here, where in the hell in New York could Peter Parker be?

"Should we call his phone?" Pietro questioned, his phone already open and looking for Peter's contact.

"Wouldn't matter. Peter could sleep through a tornado. May had to drown him in order for him to get to the SAT." You noted, sitting on the bed in anguish.

But you were very lucky that Pietro didn't listen to you, for once. Because he clicked on Peter's contact and let it ring.

You were about to tell him it was useless, that you should return to your search because this could be Home Alone 2. But then you heard Peter's ringtone ring throughout the room; it was Pocketful of Sunshine.

"He's here!"

You all sprawled out, looking in every corner, hoping for the sound to grow louder. You searched under every blanket, each cushion, even in the bathroom.

You were about to give up, maybe he left his phone in here.

But then you reached for the closet. You weren't even looking.

Yet there Peter was, curled up in a ball, sleeping on his blazer. "Peter?" You gave him a shove, no movement. If he were any other person, you would have thought him to be dead.

You were about to get the bucket when MJ pushed through everyone to get to him. If anyone were to be able to wake him up, it would be his soon-to-be wife.

And she did, very easily.

"Where am I?" He wondered, letting a long overdue yawn.

"The closet." You answered.

"Not anymore." He joked, causing you all to let out a little giggle. At least you knew his humor was still intact.

"Why are you in the closet?"

His face crumpled and you feared the worst. "I thought it was the bathroom."

"Ewwww!"

The wedding ended up being a success.

You figured the bachelor party was a warning, a warning for MJ and Peter not to get married. But they were America's favorite couple, nothing would deter them from each other.

No drag queens robbing banks. Not getting lost. No bachelorette parties in hotels. Nothing stopped their wedding.

You saw Peter unsure last night, wondering if MJ was going to want to marry him, become a Parker. But now, as you looked him, there was no sense of uncertainty. Just love.

It was beautiful.

—

Pietro was finally enjoying the hors d'oeuvres while you sat across from him, enjoying a Capri-sun. No more drinking after last night.

You tried to not make eye contact, Pietro was swallowing the mini hot dogs like they were nothing. He was like a rabid dog.

But your attention was taken off him when Kate began walking up to you, eyes full of wonder. You had almost forgot you had a crush on her, today was pretty hectic.

And she was just pretty.

Your cheeks felt hot, your throat felt like it was about to close.

"Want to dance?" She put her hand out, pulling you up out of your seat. She guided you out to the dance floor where MJ and Peter were already.

Her hands fell onto your middle as you began to groove to the slow music playing. Her eyes fell on yours and you felt like your legs were going to turn into putty.

But you couldn't ignore the question that had been plaguing your mind since last night. So you decided to ask it.

"Why did you run off last night?"

Kate looked to you, perturbed. So you decided to explain further.

"At the bachelorette party, you and Peter disappeared. Why?" She suddenly deflated, you felt like you did something wrong. You almost wanted to take it back immediately and forget it entirely. But she spoke first.

"I got jealous. Of you and the bachelorette girls. I know it wasn't anything but I felt it. And Peter ran after me. Since I was drunk, I spilled my guts and he snitched on you." She grimaced.

Your eyes went wide.

"MJ's about to be a widow. For real this time."

You went to break away from her to go put Peter in the chokehold he so obviously wanted but Kate grabbed your wrist, pulling you back.

Without warning, her hand fell upon your neck, pulling you in for a nice chaste kiss.

#help lol #marvel #marvel imagine #kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop fanfiction #kate bishop imagine #kate bishop x female reader #michelle jones #mj watson #peter parker #pietro maximoff #the hangover #911 fox

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comics-at-dawn · 9 months ago

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Mary Jane & Spiderman ❤️

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bitchystxrk3000 · 1 year ago

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Thor: I put the pun in punishment.

Ned: I put the top in unstoppable.

Peter: I put the cute in execute.

Y/N: I put the sexy in dyslexia.

MJ: I put the ass in class.

Loki: I put the D in Y/N.

#marvel #mcu fandom #incorrect marvel quotes #marvel mcu #mcu #loki x reader #loki of asgard #loki odinson #loki friggason #loki #loki laufeyson #thor of asgard #thor odinson #thor #peter parker #peter benjamin parker #ned leeds #mj watson #michelle jones watson

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fandomnerd9602 · 10 months ago

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Scream approaches Y/N, the Spider Knight…

Y/N: MJ? It’s Y/N, are you still in there?

Scream hisses a little…

Y/N: baby Im not gonna fight you. I-I won’t leave your side. No matter what. I-I think this is covered by our wedding vows

Scream gets right up to Y/N…

Y/N closes his eyes and…

Scream nuzzles him and purrs…

Y/N: there’s my tigress

Scream: (purrs) my tiger

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spider-stark · 2 years ago

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A DARK AGE pt.2

previous part -

series summary - it's been nine months since you watched your best friend, Gwen Stacy, plummet to her death; an event that ultimately caused new york's hero to abandon the city entirely. now that he's finally returned you find yourself being forced to confront the ugly truth you've been running from.

chapter summary - desperate to get Harry Osborn out of your head, you find yourself following a lead that sends you straight to Peter Parker.

series warnings - 18+, minors DNI, series will contain depictions of violence, sexual content, dark themes, and more. please read at your own risk.

word count - 12.8k

// a dark tasm!fan fiction // masterlist // send me your thoughts // newspaper headline //

YOU HAD been worried that the ice-cold stare of Harry Osborn would remain stuck in your brain for the entire cab ride back to New York City.

Fortunately, by the time you’d made it to Yonkers, about thirty minutes out from Ravencroft’s facility, the distressing imagery in your head faded as your ears were suddenly blasted with a series of rushed ding-s from your cell phone.

You welcomed the noisy distraction, even if it only further agitated the throbbing headache you felt coming on.

All the messages were from Betty Brant and likely could’ve been summed up in one long message rather than a dozen short ones. And, for the most part, all the texts did were confirm your fears: her search for Peter’s whereabouts had been a fruitless effort.

Well, almost fruitless.

You couldn’t quite give Brant credit for the one lead she’d received given the fact that it had essentially just fallen in her lap, but you still typed back a simple—good job, nonetheless.

While you were off pointlessly torturing yourself behind Ravencroft’s iron gates, a woman had called the Bugle and had the misfortune of being answered by Jameson himself.

According to Brant, the lady asked for you by name, and when Jameson told her you were busy and she’d need to call back later, she turned frantic. He said she sounded as if she were on the verge of tears, begging him to get a message to you ASAP.

Please tell her to stop by my house! Tomorrow afternoon! She knows the address already, I promise! Tell her it’s May Parker, okay? M-A-Y P-A-R-K-E-R!

Of course Jameson knew who the crackpot (his words) was once she said her last name, having spoken to her once or twice during Peter’s limited time at the Bugle.

What he hadn’t told Brant was that it took everything in him to bite his tongue, to not tell the woman every horrible opinion he held in regard to her nephew. Jameson knew that it would do no good. He also knew that it wasn’t her fault that Peter hadn’t shown up to the hospital that night.

Still, he couldn’t help but find himself seething with rage, speaking through gritted teeth until he could finally hang up the phone. He had absolutely no interest in finding Peter Parker, even if he was the only one to ever get a clear shot of Spider-Man.

Good riddance had become his motto when it came to both Peter and Harry. You were one of the few things in this world that mattered more to Jameson than a good lead, which was exactly the reason why he had no interest in Peter’s whereabouts when he first went awol and left the Bugle without notice—he didn’t care. Even if Peter had come back to work, he would’ve just been fired anyway. Jameson had no interest in keeping him around, regardless of the quality of his work.

But despite his hatred for the boy, he knew you were looking for him. While Jameson was unaware of Peter’s secret identity, he knew for certain that Peter had connections to Spider-Man, given that it was the whole reason he had employed him in the first place. You figured there was likely no one in this world that Jameson wanted to keep you from more than Spider-Man. But in what was surely not an easy choice to make, he begrudgingly passed the message from May along to Brant, messily scrawled onto a Doughnuttery napkin that had been stained with chocolate frosting.

He refused to withhold a lead from you.

Of course, when first deciding to track Peter down, you had considered going to his aunt, but she was always meant to be a last-ditch choice. After all, rumor had it that Peter had abandoned her too, moving out shortly after Gwen’s death. You didn’t see a need to add to her grief unless it felt necessary, yet it seemed she wanted you to.

A part of you hoped that the mystery surrounding why May was so adamant about speaking to you would serve as a distraction for the night. You didn’t want to think any more about Ravencroft, and certainly not about the boy they kept locked behind those iron gates.

Deep down, though, you knew that wasn’t possible. Try as you might, there was nothing in this world capable of distracting you from the thoughts of Harry Osborn.

He was a plague, one that you had been fighting off ever since that night; and seeing him in person seemed to have only granted him the opportunity to further sink his claws into you.

You often found yourself reliving the moment you first saw him—the Green Goblin. A monster composed of distended veins and spindly bones, appearing so completely and utterly inhuman—so unlike the boy you knew that you didn’t even recognize him at first. At first, there had just been fear, a sense of pure unbridled terror.

But then, once he spoke, you knew. You knew what he had done, recognized him in spite of the monster the serum had transformed him into. Bile instantly stung at your throat, threatening to spill past your lips and onto the asphalt beneath your feet. You couldn’t stop thinking of how much it had burned, swallowing it down over and over again, as many times as it took before your body finally stopped trying.

You fought so hard against that visceral reaction, the sensible part of you that had seen this new form he’d taken on and screamed at you to run. You wouldn’t let yourself do that. You couldn’t bear the thought of turning your back on your friend, even after seeing what he’d turned himself into.

But then he grabbed Gwen and once she was in his arms you realized that he wasn’t the same anymore. Then once he’d finally let her go, once you’d watched her take her very last breath, you swore you’d always hate him. Harry Osborn was not your friend; it was a simple fact that you still stood behind.

But trauma was a peculiar thing.

Usually when Harry haunted your thoughts, the Green Goblin was always the focal point. Flashes of Gwen’s lifeless body dangling from Spider-Man's web, the sounds of squelching flesh and cracking bones. You would remember the metallic taste that filled your mouth as you looked over at him that last time, just before everything went black.

Tonight, though, you’d found yourself thinking not of the Goblin, but of your friend. The friend that had once been good as dead to you. Memories that had once been shoved aside in favor of sinking into the tragedy you’d experienced, only to be brought back to light after seeing his face today.

You tossed and turned in your bed, your head pounding as thoughts of posh charity events, late-night talks, and inside jokes fought to keep you awake. It wasn’t until the next day when you’d finally arrived at Aunt May’s house that you received a much-needed break from him.

The thick plastic covering on the couch crinkled loudly beneath your weight as you sat down. You used every ounce of effort in your body to try and appear calm as she moved past the coffee table, sitting across from you in a sage green armchair.

It was new.

“I’m so glad you came, y/n.” May offered you her sweetest smile, the gesture accentuating the thin lines around her eyes. She looked older somehow, even though it hadn’t even been a year since you last saw her. “I was worried that bitter man at the newspaper wouldn’t tell you I called.”

You barely stifled your laughter, then immediately wondered if she could tell that even that sliver of emotion was fake. It was second nature to put on an act, especially when it came to work matters. To appear excessively friendly, using it as a tool to quickly build some sort of rapport with someone, hoping it would get them to spill whatever information they might have.

It didn't seem necessary to put up an act around May, but you found it difficult to turn it off.

“Jameson can be a little… testy, at times.”

She immediately snorted at your words, believing them to be a drastic understatement.

“But I’ve gotta say,” you continued, trying to steer the conversation, “I was a bit surprised when he said you called.”

Guilt settled over her soft features, dusty pink lips settling into a thin line as she stared down at her lap, watching the steam rise from her cup. “I know. I meant to call sooner, more often, but I just...” she sucked in a breath, lifting the cup to the edge of her lips, “I didn’t want to make a big fuss of things.”

She was drinking chamomile tea. You knew this because you were offered some as soon as she opened the front door, cheerfully telling you that she’d just boiled a fresh pot of water. While you didn’t consider yourself an expert on May Parker, you couldn’t help but make note of the fact that you’d never seen her enjoy herbal drinks before.

You leaned forward a touch, your elbows resting just above your knees as you did so. “What would you make a fuss over?”

This meeting was different than Ravencroft.

At Ravencroft you were a sheep grazing among lions. Showing weakness would gain you nothing, save for failure and potential death. But in a place like Aunt May’s home, the roles immediately reversed.

Here, you were the lion. And, to gain the trust of sheep, you needed to come off as if you were entirely transparent. Wear your heart on your sleeve, bare every emotion you had, and express as much concern as possible, fooling them into believing that you were truly on their side.

But this time was different, you tried to remind yourself, working diligently to ensure your emotions didn’t come off as fake or exaggerated. You could be genuine. You really were on her side, right?

“Peter’s been...” She hesitated as her wedding ring clinked against the porcelain cup in her hands as she nervously tapped her fingers. She never took it off, even after Ben died. “different.”

Your chest tightened, elbows digging further into your thighs. “What do you mean?”

“He changed after what happened to Gwendolyne.” she began to explain, though she remained hesitant. “It started off small. Quitting the newspaper, refusing to finish his college applications. And maybe that’s when I should’ve stepped in, tried to snap him out of it or something. But after what he’d gone through... what he had lost...”

There was a knowing look in her eyes, a sense of understanding. It was then that it fully clicked for you, realizing that May had been through something similar to what Peter went through. She knew what it was like to have your entire world change in the blink of an eye. “I just hoped that with time it would pass.”

“And it didn’t, did it?” You guessed, painfully aware of the answer.

If it had changed, if he had gotten better, then you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.

May shook her head. “No.” She uttered, her hooded gaze still avoiding yours, remaining fixed on her cup. “It got worse.”

There was something in the way she spoke, the solemn tone you’d never heard her take before, that sent chills running down your spine.

“How so?”

"Little ways, at first.” Her voice broke, clearing her throat before taking another sip of tea. “He started acting out. Getting mean. Rageful.”

Your heart ached for the woman, fighting the urge to reach out and hug her as you watched her hazel eyes turn glossy.

“He was almost never home anymore, and then one day he just... didn’t come back.”

She wiped away the unshed tears, lightly shaking her head and muttering an apology.

“Where is he?” You asked her, instinctively looking towards the old staircase that led to his bedroom.

Years had been wasted in there, sitting cross-legged on his worn-out rug and exchanging complaints about Flash Thompson or Miss. Ritter. On good days, the two of you would build Lego sets and eat your fill of junk food. On bad days you’d both tuck yourselves away in his bed, hidden underneath a stack of blankets as old movies played from his laptop.

It had been a while since you’d let yourself think of those memories, and you hadn’t quite expected it to hurt as much as it did to acknowledge that those days were gone.

“Columbia.” She spoke.

Your eyes widened as your head cocked to the side. “University?”

Warmth spread across your cheeks as embarrassment settled in, feeling a bit silly for speaking the thought aloud. Of course she had meant Columbia University. Still, it shocked you a little when she nodded, confirming your thoughts. Given the way she spoke of Peter’s decline, you hadn’t expected him to be attending college.

“So, you still talk to him?” You quickly followed up with another question, this one less painstakingly dumb than the last.

May scoffed, the loose hair framing her face swaying about as she shook her head. “I don’t know if I’d call it talking. But he checks in on occasion, just often enough to keep me from having a heart attack.”

You glanced down at her cup of tea, willing to reason that maybe Peter had been the reason for her sudden interest in herbal drinks. After all, they were known to reduce stress, and Peter seemed to be causing a great deal of it.

There was another sound of disapproval, a click of her tongue as her voice went low again. “You raise a boy for over ten years,” she started, the smallest spark of anger burning within her, “only to end up getting a postcard in the mail every month.”

“A postcard?” You wondered aloud, likely looking as puzzled as you felt. “You don’t have his phone number?”

She snorted. “I don’t know if he even has a phone anymore.”

For a moment neither of you spoke, and you found yourself studying her features, looking for any sign that she might be lying. You knew that there was no point in it, that May had no reason to lie to you. There would be nothing for her to gain, plus she had reached out to you for help. Still, it was second nature for you to remain apprehensive.

It was hard to believe that Peter had all but completely cut ties with his aunt. May had raised him, practically given her entire life just to ensure that he had everything he could ever need, only to up and abandon her out of the blue—just as he had done to you.

Nothing about it made any sense to you, and the thought alone was enough to fill you with not only rage, but also fear. Was Peter that far gone?

You didn’t want to think about that right now, instead focusing on the sharp pain sneaking up your left side from sitting hunched over for so long. Forcibly relaxing your muscles, you leaned back against the couch cushions, listening to the way the plastic squelched as you shifted.

“Is that why you called?” You finally asked, pressing a hand to your ribs and rubbing over the sore area. “To see if I could help Peter?”

May took another long and thoughtful sip of her tea. Then, once she was finished, she leaned forwards and placed it on the coffee table that stood between you both. “No.” She stated firmly, only for her eyes to narrow and then go back on the declaration, “Not entirely, at least.”

You frowned at her, confused.

“I wanted to call because I realized that you needed someone, too.” You froze instantly, suddenly feeling as if the air had been knocked from your lungs. “I’ve been so caught up with Peter and trying to find a way to help him that I nearly forgot he wasn’t the only one who lost someone.”

May glanced up for perhaps the first time in this whole conversation. You couldn’t help but feel as if the roles had changed, sinking further into the cushion behind you. She took note of everything, your stiff posture, the subtle bouncing of your leg, the timid look in your eye. You had become the sheep, being carefully discerned by the lion.

“I never got a chance to tell you how sorry I was—still am, for your loss, y/n. You didn’t just lose Gwen that night, you lost all three of them.”

Her heedful words landed the final blow, feeling like a piercing knife against your throat.

Suck it up, you kept repeating to yourself, change the subject.

Scrambling to compose yourself, nearly choking on your own tongue, you tried to ignore the look of concern she gave you. You didn’t need sympathy. “I’m managing.” You told her roughly, only able to conjure a barely believable smile. “It could be worse.”

“Sure,” May tentatively agreed, “but it could also be better.”

You decided it was best to not acknowledge her words.

“You said not entirely.” You reminded her, working hard to ensure that your voice didn’t shake. You weren’t sure why it was shaking in the first place, torn between naming anxiety or anger as the culprit. “When I asked if you wanted me to help Peter, that’s what you said. What makes you think I can help him?”

May’s face screwed up, staring at you as if it were obvious. “Because no one else can. The three of you—you, Harry, and Gwen—were the only ones that could ever get through to him.” She paused, considering her next words. “And you’re the only one left.”

There was a weight that settled on your shoulders, shoving you further into the couch. You didn’t like the way that it sounded, for more reasons than one. There was too much responsibility that came with it.

“Columbia’s campus is big.” You told her, void of any emotion. “Do you know where he’s staying? Anything that might help me find him?”

This time it was May’s turn to sink back into her seat, shoulders slouching forward as she turned apologetic. “I know he’s living on campus, but I don’t know which building. Whenever he writes he always keeps the details to a minimum.”

As much as you appreciated any information she offered, it wouldn’t help you much. You had been right in your earlier statement; Columbia was a big school with at least two dozen residence halls. Finding Peter amongst those students was comparable to finding a needle in a haystack.

You knew that you could enlist Betty Brant’s help, but even then, it could take days before one of you happened to find him.

Finally, a bit exasperated, you dared to ask. “Anything else?”

May smiled, weary and filled with regret. “Just be careful, y/n. I’m not sure what Peter had gotten himself into, but I’ve seen the news.” Her hands trembled as she spoke. “I know what they think he did. What Spider-Man might have done.”

She spoke the vigilante’s name like a forbidden word, as if it were one she had sworn she’d never speak aloud, and your eyes grew wide as you just barely breathed out, “You know?”

May’s smile remained despite the somber gleam in her eyes as she told you simply, “No one washes the flag.”

You found the students at Columbia University nauseating.

Most of them were pretentious assholes that stunk of cigarette smoke, not because they actually smoked them, but instead because letting them lazily hang from their fingers matched their desired aesthetic.

They were all desperate to give off the same vibe as a fifteen-year-olds dark academia Pinterest board, leaning against a wall with a copy of Allan Ginsberg’s Howl tucked beneath their arm. You wondered if any of them had ever read it, snorting to yourself when you thought of how they’d likely dogeared a few pages to make the book look worn.

“This place is huge.” Betty Brant marveled from beside you, spinning in a circle as she took in its vastness. When she was done making herself dizzy, she looked at you. “This is gonna be impossible.”

You smiled at her inept observation, challenging her. “Why?”

Her brows snapped together, a single hand incredulously waving around the two of you. “Have you looked around?” She quipped. “There are literally thousands of people here! If we find him today, then it’ll just be dumb luck.”

You didn’t judge her for her innate pessimism. After all, you felt just as overwhelmed as Betty Brant did currently when sitting on Aunt May’s couch, listening as she told you that she had essentially nothing to offer in terms of helping to find Peter. It was easy to assume the worst in a field where you’re so often dealt the shittiest of hands—but Jameson and the other seasoned reporters at the Bugle had taught you well. There was always a way to turn things around.

“Know your target, Brant.” You lightly chastised, a teasing smile that Brant felt looked out of place on you. While she still didn’t know you well, she’d seen you around the office a lot, and she struggled to remember a time when you didn’t have a permanent grimace etched on your face.

Your fingers delved into your bag and reached for a few papers that you’d printed off at the Bugle, just moments before you’d snagged Brant up by her arm without warning and forced her to come with you to Columbia University. You held one of the papers out to her, which she swiftly took and began reading.

"There are only two programs offered at Columbia that Peter would care about: photography or biochemistry.” You explained to her. “I went on their website and got an idea of a mock schedule for both and copied down the names of the buildings they’re in. It’s still not a sure shot-”

“But it gives us somewhere to start.” Brant finished your sentence, her big eyes flickering back up to yours as she lowered the page you’d given her.

You grinned. “Exactly.”

“So, we’re splitting up?”

She was nervous about that idea, clear by the way she started to tug at the edge of her royal blue cardigan. If it were someone other than Brant you might be concerned, but Brant always came off a little antsy, making it easy to brush it off; although it did leave you wondering why the girl stayed so high strung. One day you’d ask her about it, you thought, but not right now.

"It’s better that way. We'll cover more ground.” You told her, your pitiless statement doing little to quell her nerves as she gave another sharp tug to her garment, anxiously looking around at the swarm of students passing around you both.

You did your best to look sympathetic, “Just call me if you need me, alright?” Brant stared back at you, resembling a small child whose mother was dropping them off on their first day of school. It was pitiful, and you nearly groaned as you forced yourself to say, “If you call, I’ll answer. Promise.”

Brant hesitated for a second before nodding, still uneasy but far more willing now to leave your side. As you turned away from her you reminded yourself to never have children, desperately hoping and praying to any God who might listen that Brant would not call you.

As you started to meld into the crowd, falling into step with a group of girls around your age, the thoughts of Brant and her child-like anxiety were replaced with something far more juvenile. You had just barely glanced at the girls walking next to you, at first only giving them a quick glance. Soon, though, as you continued towards your destination, you found yourself fixating on them.

They smelled like cloves and bergamot, probably the scent of some over-priced perfume you’d never even dream of taking off the shelf and their clothes were nicer than anything hanging up in your closet. One had a Tiffany’s necklace dangling around her throat like a collar and another had pin straight platinum hair. In short, they looked expensive. But, at the same time, they looked incredibly beautiful.

It made you hyper aware of yourself, of how different you looked in comparison. You weren’t wearing any nice jewelry, and your hair was messily tied back, making you feel as if you were the opposite of both the girls that had caught your attention. Realizing this, you looked around at the other girls surrounding you, noticing that all of them looked that way. Posh, put-together, and completely and utterly gorgeous.

A strange feeling crept up your spine, one you hadn’t felt since you were in high school. Self-loathing.

There was a time when you prioritized your appearance, or at least more than you do now. You could still remember what it was like to stroll into an Oscorp charity event, dozens of eyes glued to you. Men would watch with bated breath as you passed them, silently dreaming of a day where you’d actually notice them.

That would never happen, of course.

You always went to those events with either Harry or Peter, and they often left you with little reason to acknowledge anyone else in attendance. Even so, you remembered the power you held. Remembered what it was like to feel desired by someone, even if it wasn’t by who you wanted.

After the accident, though, you’d stopped caring about how you looked. It felt so trivial to put any more effort than necessary into your looks, often throwing on the same outfit several days in a row to save time in the mornings. But in this moment, you found yourself feeling differently, insecurity slipping into your mind. Had you let yourself go? Surely not...

It didn’t matter! You suddenly shouted at yourself, fists balling up at your sides as you tried to silence the thoughts that were fueled by foolish insecurity. Despite believing every word of the statement, it didn’t help to make you feel any less self-conscious.

Passing by the mirrored windows of the mess hall, you found yourself slowing down, falling behind the group of girls as you hesitantly turned to catch a glimpse of yourself. You cursed yourself for looking, hating that you even cared about this sort of thing right now. But once you looked into the reflection you froze, realizing that it wasn’t yourself that you saw in the reflection. It was Gwen.

“It’s not that bad!” She would lie to you, her voice jumping several octaves as she did. A hand would reach out, sage green fingernails combing through the frizzy mess that framed your face, trying to flatten it. “It just needs a little...” her head cocked to the side, teeth exposed as she sucked in a breath, “work.”

Gwen was always a terrible liar. She wasn’t like you; she never had been. She was completely incapable of hiding her hand, always living with her cards exposed for the world to see—for them to take advantage of. It was what you’d always admired most about her, her willingness to trust in everyone, to see the good in anyone. It was also what you despised the most about her, and you tried not to dwell on the complexity of that.

“You know what? It doesn’t even matter!” Gwen’s shoulders lifted exponentially, a mess of blonde curls violently swaying as she shook her head about. “You still look hotter than half the girls here, alright?” She grinned at you, the same sweet smile that you missed more than anything. “I promise!”

And she meant it every word of it, but rather than offering you any comfort, the words just filled you with envy. You envied Gwen far more than you liked to admit. You wanted to be like her, even now, to be able to see the good in every situation, to be even half as lovely as she was.

You tried to swallow your guilt, though it only made your stomach hurt. You had promised yourself that you were done envying Gwen.

But you weren’t done missing her.

Still entranced by her doe eyed stare, you felt your phone begin to buzz in your pocket, distracting you enough that you turned your gaze to your bag, instinctively going to dig for the device. By the time you thought to look back up, the vision of her was gone and you were looking at only a reflection of yourself.

You wasted no time in looking away.

When you sobered up enough to read the caller ID, you groaned loud enough to turn a few heads of students passing by. Now, in an interesting turn of events, you wished that Brant was the one calling you, staring down at Director Samson’s name flashing across the screen. You silenced it.

Not today. You started walking again, effectively trading your thoughts of Gwen for ones of Ravencroft and Harry Osborn. Or ever again.

Dodge Hall was the first stop on your list.

You were willing to bet that of the two programs you listed to Brant that Peter likely picked photography, which was precisely why you had delegated the biochemistry labs to Brant.

There was a chance that you were wrong and that he’d decided to major in biochemistry, maybe in some desperate attempt to be like the father he swore he hated, but you held out hope anyway. You wanted to believe that even in whatever odd stage of life Peter was in he was working to forge his own path, rather than following the one he’d once considered his birthright.

Stopping in front of the building that housed most of the University’s photography classes, you grimaced. It significantly lacked character, offering nothing more than a bunch of lifeless bricks with boring cement pillars on either side. You had yet to see anything about this school that made it seem worth the astronomical tuition students paid to attend.

“I know that look-” a high-pitched voice filled the air, the grating sound intensifying your already sour expression, “Dodge might not have the most intricate architecture on campus, but for what it lacks in appearance it makes up for in its rich and extraordinary history!”

You didn't want to turn around, fully recognizing the chirpy she-devil by diction alone. Still, you forced yourself to do it anyway, realizing that there was no possible escape route. “Mary Jane!” The vile taste of her name in your mouth left you feeling queasy, “what’re you doing here?”

No, seriously, what the fuck was she doing here?

A perfectly manicured hand flew to her overly plump lips, packed full of filler and overlined with a red lip pencil. An exaggerated gasp somehow managed to slip past them. “Oh my gosh!” The copper-haired beauty squealed, sounding as if she had inhaled at least a few liters of helium. You forgot how much you hated her voice. “y/n! I didn’t even recognize you!”

“Yeah, it’s been a while.” You droned, likely appearing just as displeased as you sounded. It was difficult for you to sound pleasant around Mary Jane.

Mary Jane had always been a thorn in your side. For the most part she was entirely harmless, but her ever-so-perky attitude always left a bad taste in both your mouth and Gwen’s. On top of that, she lacked morals, made clear by the last time you’d seen her.

It was immediately after Gwen’s funeral, and you’d just happened to find Mary Jane and a few other reporters from the Daily Globe swarming the Stacy family, pining for an interview. It was disgusting, and if you’d been in better shape, you swore that you would’ve knocked her square in the face that day.

Mary Jane reached out and touched your forearm, giving it a firm squeeze. “You look so good!”

You didn’t even bother thanking her, instead deciding to brace yourself for what might be coming next. You had known her long enough to know that all her compliments were a double-edged sword, an insult waiting just around the corner.

“After Genna’s funeral you looked so thin and sickly,” her button nose scrunched up as she looked you up and down, “it’s so nice to see you look far more...” a slight tilt of her head, accompanied by a sickeningly sweet smile as she squeezed your arm again, “plump!”

The smile you gave in return was far less pleasurable than hers, bearing a closer resemblance to a snarl. “Gwen.” You pointedly corrected, choosing to ignore her weak attempt at insulting you. “Her name is Gwen.”

She only waved her hand, dismissing your correction. The simple act made your blood boil, teeth grinding together as you fought to stay silent. You didn’t have time to start a fight with her.

“Ugh, silly me! I’m so bad with names!” She pretended to laugh it off, playing it as an innocent slip of the tongue. You could see the malice behind it, though, her emerald eyes glistening with spite. Mary Jane was a journalist, which meant that remembering facts was quite literally her job. Pretending to forget Gwen’s name was just another idle attempt at getting under your skin.

It worked.

“Did you check out the Globe yesterday?” She started right back up, trapping you in another conversation and preventing you from finding an excuse to slip into Dodge Hall and start your search for Peter. “Who am I kidding! Of course you did!” Mary Jane twirled a strand of red hair around her finger, her egotism on full display as she beamed. “Dozens of newsstands sold out within the hour! Amazing, right? To sell out physical copies in this digital age!”

You only hummed in response, aware that she only wanted to hear herself talk. But God, you hated the way she spoke. Her constant need to enunciate every other word, her squeaky voice filled with false sincerity, always searching for validation in every conversation.

”Bushkin agreed that we only sold out because of my story on the front page! He said my talent for writing could be enough to revive print entirely!” Her chest swelled with pride; hands clasped over her heart as nonsense continued to spew from her.

Barney Bushkin was the publisher for the Globe, which made him Mary Jane’s boss. He also had a reputation for being a sick old pervert with an affinity for girls that were far too young for him. His opinion meant nothing to you since you knew that he would say absolutely anything if he thought it would increase his odds of getting a quick look up one of Mary Jane’s too-short skirts.

”I’m not surprised you sold so many copies,” you egged her on, taking immense pleasure in the way her smug smile grew at what she mistook for praise, “fear mongering has always been a useful tactic for sales.”

For a moment you could’ve sworn you saw her eyes turn as red as her hair, fiery rage coursing through her veins at your comment. But it was gone nearly as soon as it had appeared.

”Well,” she cleared her throat, smoothing the wrinkles out of her white blouse, “I’d hardly call my article fear mongering. I just presented the facts.”

You couldn’t deny that Mary Jane was a pro at composing herself, remaining collected even when you knew she wanted to explode. Image was important to her, meaning she couldn’t ever afford to let her nice girl act falter.

”You called Spider-Man a murderer.”

You didn’t always share her skillset, willing to let yourself come off as brash and plain-spoken.

”And last I checked there’s an active warrant for his arrest.” Mary Jane retorted sharply, the only sign she was willing to give that you were annoying her. “So, like I said, I presented the facts.”

You sucked in a breath, holding back your argument. You wanted to tell her that her facts were skewed, that she was reporting with only one source and effectively trying to demonize a man who had saved the city countless times. But you didn’t. Fighting with her would be a waste of time, and you had better things to do.

"Yeah, well, I should really get going.” You gave a curt smile, nodding in the direction of Dodge Hall. “Always good to see you, MJ.” You took care to place extra emphasis on the nickname, fully aware of just how much she hated it.

Still, she barely let it get to her, hiding her own scowl as you started to edge towards the building. You noticed the way her left eye twitched, though, showing that she was nearing a breaking point. If you had more time, you’d likely try and push her over the edge.

“Why are you here?” Mary Jane suddenly mimicked the question you had first asked her, the one she had never actually gave an answer to.

You paused, only having made it less than a few feet away from her. “Visiting a friend.”

If all went to plan, that wouldn’t technically be a lie.

“Peter?” She blurted his name out in a way that left you feeling strange. There was a hesitant look on her face, almost as if she were afraid that you’d say yes. You didn’t like it.

“Yeah, actually.” You frowned, watching her face drop at the confirmation. “Why?”

She refused to meet your stare, staring past your shoulder at the entrance of the Hall. “He’s not in there.”

In all the years you’d known Mary Jane, you’d never heard her sound so uncharacteristically dispirited. Her perky persona seemed to vanish in thin air, leaving behind someone that was entirely unfamiliar to you.

It was incredibly uncomfortable.

“Wait, do you know where he is?” You asked.

“Of course I do.” She quickly answered, cutting her eyes at you. “But if you’re the one meeting him then shouldn’t you know where he is?”

Jealousy settled in. Why did she know where Peter was? Mary Jane and Peter had never been particularly close, likely due to the lifelong rivalry that you and Gwen had held with her. The idea of him even interacting with Mary Jane left you feeling unsettled.

“Well, we were supposed to meet here.” You lied, turning a tad defensive as you shrugged a shoulder in the direction of the building. “But it’s been a busy morning. He might’ve forgot.”

You paused, debating whether you wanted to continue. There was a good chance that you didn’t want to hear the answer to the question resting on the tip of your tongue, and yet you made yourself ask it anyway. “Were you just with him?”

Please say no-

“Yes.” Her answer came quickly. “We had plans to get dinner but-um,” she suddenly became extremely focused on her own feet, awkwardly kicking at the sidewalk, “he had to... cancel. Said he was gonna be too busy developing photos all night.”

Her too-perfect face screwed up in an unsightly sort of way. You almost thought that you should feel guilty for accidentally making it seem as if Peter had ditched her for you. But you didn’t. Instead, you felt sickly satisfied, taking pleasure in her sorrow. You reveled in it, finding it easier to focus on that than the idea of why she and Peter were going to get dinner together in the first place.

”Mm, that sucks.” You let out a disinterested hum, taking a page from her book as you continued without waiting for a reply, “Is that what he’s doing now? Developing photos?”

Mary Jane gave a stiff nod.

”Great.”

Despite how painful it had been to sit through what felt like a never-ending conversation with her, Mary Jane had ended up being of vital importance. If Peter was developing images today, then that meant he had to be in the darkrooms. And, thanks to your Google research, you knew exactly where they were—Watson Hall, just a brief walk from where you were now.

You wasted no time with stepping around Mary Jane, having no intention of even wasting a goodbye on her as you started towards your destination. But, as you moved around her body, she reached for you, her thin fingers once again wrapping around your forearm. She squeezed harder than last time, your head snapping in her direction, eyes narrowing in a threatening stare as she held you there.

Surprisingly, she gave you a threatening look of her own.

“Before you go,” you found it eerie the way her voice remained syrupy sweet, a sharp contrast to the menacing expression she wore, “I just wanted to tell you how much I adored that little sympathy piece you wrote for your friend in the looney bin.”

You pulled your arm from her grip, your body going tense at the mention of the article you’d written to try and sway the public during Harry’s trial. Jameson hadn’t allowed it to go to print, reminding you that your judgment was still clouded by grief. He didn’t understand why you were so desperate to keep Harry out of Ryker’s Island, but he had hoped that by letting you at least post the article on the Bugle’s website that it would offer you some sort of closure.

It hadn’t. It was shortly after publishing the piece that you had went straight to Harry’s lawyers, giving them all the information they would need to plead insanity.

Mary Jane stepped closer, ignoring your effort to create distance from her. She was close enough that you could nearly feel the heat radiating off her body. You didn’t like it, but you refused to let yourself back away from her.

“I can’t say that Peter agreed.” Her lips curled into a cynical smirk. “I mean, honestly, after the reaction he had to it I’m shocked that he can even stand to be in the same room as you!” The sound of her laughter infuriated you. “I suppose it’s true what they say about time, yeah? That it heals all wounds—even a knife in the back.”

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink, couldn’t think.

All you could do was stare at the devilish woman in front of you, seething with a type of hatred that you were certain could eat you alive. Your nails sunk into the heel of your palm, an effort to refrain yourself from using them to claw that nasty complacent look right off her face.

Mary Jane noticed this and decided to take your silence as a sign of her victory.

“It really was great seeing you, y/n.” She gushed, the false tender statement only fueling your anger. As she turned to walk away, she glanced over her shoulder, winking at you. “Don’t be a stranger.”

One day, you swore to yourself with a particularly loud huff, spinning on your heel and stomping in the direction of the darkrooms, you would kick Mary Jane’s ass.

When you posted the article—the one you hoped would sway the public’s opinion of Harry—you knew Peter would see it. More than that, you knew that he would be adamantly against it.

Unlike you, Harry hadn’t given Peter a reason to care whether he lived or died.

If anything, he had done nothing but give Peter motive to kill Harry himself. You hated that thought. While you didn’t believe that Peter had murdered Sytsevich, you worried that if given the chance he would have killed Harry that night. You wanted to believe that he wouldn’t have been capable of following through with it, though. Just as you weren’t capable of sitting idly by as Harry was sentenced to Ryker’s Island, knowing that he would be as good as dead in there.

Maybe you’d been stupid not to consider that the article was one of the reasons why Peter had never bothered to reach out to you, even once things had settled down. Maybe it was your own fault that he’d abandoned you, that the article had been the final nail in the coffin of your friendship.

Your stomach ached, your mind still reeling as you shoved open the large doors of Watson Hall. A rush of frigid air washed over you, goosebumps erupting against your skin.

Was it possible that Peter hated you as much as he hated Harry?

No. It couldn’t be. What Harry had done was beyond abominable, something that could never be forgiven. You hadn’t done anything nearly as bad as him.

Yet, on the other hand… is the one who comes to a monster's defense just as bad as the monster? You weren’t sure of the answer to that question, though you started to rationalize it to yourself anyway—you weren’t defending him, you just didn’t want to watch him die if there was something you could do to stop it!

But why not? Gwen wasn’t a monster, yet you still watched her die, standing on the sidelines and doing nothing to try and stop it.

There was nothing I could’ve done! Your mind screamed in defense of itself as you approached the staircase leading to the second floor, roughly gripping the rail as you started climbing up.

Why had Peter talked to Mary Jane about the article in the first place? That question was easier to think about than the others, infuriating but still less emotionally taxing, so you let yourself fixate on it. As far as you knew, Peter hadn’t liked Mary Jane any more than you and Gwen did, always keeping his distance from the she-devil.

When did that change?

At the top of the stairs, nestled in a corner of the left, there was a single door with a large black sign hanging off of it. The words DARKROOM IN USE were written in bold letters. You stared at it for a moment, your mind finally going blank as you did.

Peter was behind that door—your best friend, Peter.

Your palms started to sweat as memories started flooding back. Instantly, you bit your cheek, trying to ignore them. Now wasn’t the time for a trip down memory lane, especially not when you could still recall the bloody way that road ends.

A knock echoed through the somewhat barren Hall as your first collided with the door, your nerves growing with every passing millisecond. All you could do was focus on the different feelings fighting to consume you, the thudding of your heart, the slickness of your hands, the churning of your stomach.

“Peter?”

Saying his name felt wrong, but you said it anyway as you knocked again, a bit harder this time. “It’s y/n,” you told him, as if it were even possible for him to forget the sound of your voice, “can I come in?”

Once again you were met with silence.

You considered turning around. Maybe Jameson had been right in thinking that you shouldn’t chase this story. After all, it wasn’t your job to prove Spider-Man's innocence, and if Peter wanted your help, then he knew how to find you. You could call Brant right now and tell her that today was a bust, or even lie and say that Peter didn’t want to help with the story. You could walk away.

But you didn’t let yourself do that, once again feeling that weight of responsibility that May had unintentionally placed on your shoulders. There was no one left in Peter’s corner, no one that would be willing to dig him out of whatever dark hole he’d landed himself in.

You had fought to save Harry’s life, and so it only felt right that you tried to do the same for Peter.

Without bothering to knock again, you reached for the knob and twisted, hastily slipping inside the room, trying to limit the amount of light the leaked in behind you. You didn’t know a lot about developing photos, but you’d never forgotten the way Peter would groan whenever you’d come in unannounced, accidentally letting the light ruin his work.

The door clicked shut behind you as you looked around. It wasn’t a big room, just large enough for two or three people to comfortably fit inside. Any more than that, though, and they’d likely be bumping elbows the entire time. There was a table in the center of it, lined with tubs holding various chemicals that you’d never learned the names of. A clothesline hung around the perimeter of the room, a few newly developed photos lazily dangling from it. On the far wall there were two desks, various images and tools scattered across them.

Everything in the room looked sinister, courtesy of the red tinted light that hung overhead.

”Fucking creepy.” You muttered to yourself, crossing your arms over your chest as a chill inched down your back. This room felt significantly colder than the rest of Watson Hall, only adding to its unsettling vibe.

The darkroom was empty, despite the sign on the door saying it was in use. The realization nearly made you breathe a sigh of relief, a part of you finding comfort in the thought that you wouldn’t actually have to confront Peter right now. But as you stepped further into the room and towards the twin desks, all your newfound relief dissipated.

Resting against the leg of the desk was a fluorescent yellow bookbag, decorated with a variety of cheap pins ranging from local bands to images of outdated memes. You remembered the first time you ever saw that bag, lying on the floor of Peter’s bedroom just a week or so before the start of Junior year. He threw a fit when Aunt May had come in, tossing the ugly bag on his bed and raving about how she had gotten it on sale just in time for back-to-school.

You made fun of him for months, always making note of the way its vibrancy clashed with his darker style. Secretly you had loved that bag, silently appreciative for how easy it made it to find Peter in the crowded halls of Midtown High. He would always beg Aunt May to get a different bag, but she refused, saying that they shouldn’t buy another until he had worn the yellow one out.

Looking at it now, it seemed that he had finally achieved that goal. The yellow fabric was a touch duller now, though not by much, and there was a noticeable tear in the seam of the front pocket. Kneeling beside it, you traced your finger over a trail of blue thread, having been carefully used to stitch the fabric back together.

You wondered why he had decided to fix it instead of just replacing it like he had always wanted.

Straightening back up, you scanned over the rest of the desk. There was a black reusable water bottle perched on the edge, a set of keys attached to a Deftones lanyard lying beside it. A bit of sweat trickled down the edge of the bottle, collecting on the surface of the desk. You reached for it, shifting it just enough to hear ice knocking against the metal walls. It had barely melted, meaning that it hadn’t been long since Peter had gotten here. Still, you had no clue where he was now.

Closer to the center of the desk was a neat stack of already developed photos. A girl graced the top of the stack—pale skin with bleach blonde hair, neatly pushed back by a black headband. You reached for it without hesitation, a single digit tracing along her grinning face.

Peter took pictures of a lot of people, you included, but it was undeniable that Gwen had always been his favorite subject. Looking at this photo, you couldn’t help but understand why. She was effortlessly beautiful, capable of taking your breath away without even trying.

You could never blame Peter for always trying to capture that beauty, fully aware that if you were him, she would’ve been your favorite too.

Without much thought you decided to slip the image into your bag. Peter had dozens of pictures of Gwen, while you only had a measly few. He could spare one.

The other images were far more recent than the first, with only one or two others featuring Gwen. There were snapshots of random Columbia students, a few cityscapes, and even one of the devil herself—Mary Jane, posed in front of the same mess hall that had ensnared you earlier. In the reflection you could see Peter, smiling from behind his camera.

You gritted your teeth and rolled your eyes at the image. Were they really friends? The picture seemed to serve as enough of an answer, but you still couldn’t help but hope that you were wrong. Had Peter truly traded you in for Mary-fucking-Jane?

You roughly shoved that photo to the back of the stack, doing your best not to think about it as you continued to snoop through the rest of them. None were particularly interesting, save for the last two. Their dark composition offered a stark difference from the rest, while simultaneously making it difficult to tell what Peter was even photographing.

Taking one in each hand, your eyes darted back and forth between them, squinting as you tried to make out the subject, a task that was made all the more difficult by the rooms dim red lighting. You brought one closer to your face, making out a few trivial details. At the far edge, there seemed to be a street sign's corner, and in the middle a few streaks of dim light reflecting off a rain puddle.

Moving it away from yourself, you shifted your focus to the other one, thinking it appeared to be just a close-up of the first image. Then, slowly, you realized your mistake. It hadn’t been just a zoomed-in shot, as the reflection in the puddle made it something else entirely—a self-portrait.

But it wasn’t the warmth of Peter’s familiar brown eyes being reflected in the hazy liquid. Rather there was an outline of the two lifeless white lenses that belonged to his other self, the version of him you sometimes wished to forget.

The sight made you feel sick, sweat starting to form along your neck as you hastily flipped the photo over, desperate to avoid his sickening stare. However, what you saw on the back of the image was almost as bad as being forced to stare at Spider-Man's reflection. Scrawled in Peter’s barely legible handwriting was the date APRIL 2ND.

A new panic quickly trickled into your veins, fully replacing the one that had been born from the lifeless gaze of his mask. You read yesterday’s date over and over again, as if it would suddenly change. It never did, and a sizable knot formed in your throat as you slowly began to look up, shifting your focus to the forgotten photos pinned to the clothesline.

Your jaw fell slack, the photos in your hands following suit and landing on the desk below them. When you first entered the darkroom, you hadn’t paid much mind to the photographs hanging up, assuming they weren’t of much importance. Now, though, you recognized them for what they truly were—the sister images of the ones you’d been holding. Flashes of 102nd Avenue, Aleksei Sytsevich lying lifeless on the ground, milky white shards of bone peeking through his flesh. And there were photos of his mask, and those goddamn white lenses, spattered with Aleksei’s blood.

Peter hadn’t just been at the crime scene; he had documented it.

Your palm pressed roughly to your mouth, fingers digging into your cheek as you made yourself swallow the vomit fighting its way up your throat. Your own trauma fought desperately to rear its head as you analyzed the gory images, but you refused to let it take hold, scrambling to keep control as you forced yourself to snap into action.

After grabbing your phone, you wasted no time snapping pictures of the photographs hanging from the line, of the ones sprawled on the desk, of everything you could find. You didn’t know yet what you would do with them, but you refused to leave this room without collecting every bit of evidence you could find.

Once you were certain you had gotten it all, you worked to straighten the stack of pictures you’d gone through, adjusting them so they appeared as if they’d never been touched in the first place. Then, with your heart hammering inside your chest, you darted for the door without a second thought, paying absolutely no mind to the strange looks given to you by passing students as you rushed for the stairs.

You couldn’t stop moving, only slowing your frantic pace once you’d nearly made it to the exit doors. You rounded the corner as you tried to pull up Brant’s contact with shaky hands, wanting nothing more than to call her and get the fuck away from this campus. But, as soon as you went to press her name, your phone went flying from your hand and slid across the linoleum, your body pressing smack against another.

Sugary notes of vanilla flooded your senses, making your thoughts turn hazy. Your palms were flush against the soft cotton of someone’s shirt, and you could feel their fingers wrapping firmly around your shoulders, trying to steady you enough that you wouldn’t stumble back from the impact.

”Oh-shit!, sorry! I didn’t even see you-”

Their voice wasn’t the first thing you recognized, instead you found yourself caught up in the material beneath your hands. They were wearing a black Ramones t-shirt, a barely noticeable tear on the edge of the collar. But you noticed the tear instantly because you were the one who had bought the shirt. You got it at the record store on 6th Avenue—Rough Trade, was the name of it—and the man behind the counter gave it to you for half off all because of that tear.

You only ever got to wear it once before Peter nabbed it off your bedroom floor, never to return it.

”y/n?”

Your body betrayed you, immediately melting as the familiar sound of your name falling from his lips rang through your ears. Your heart had still been pounding in your chest this entire time, yet as your eyes met his for the first time in months, it fell still.

Peter didn’t fully share in your reaction. Instead of appearing as if he were lost in the same nostalgic haze you were caught in, he looked as if he had seen a ghost. His skin blanched, eyes growing unnaturally wide. For a moment you thought he was going to say something else, his lips parting, yet nothing came out.

In your lifetime, you had only known of a few things that could render Peter Parker speechless. You had now become one of them.

”Hi.” You squeaked out, a single hand lifting from his chest and offering an awkward wave that filled you with humility.

This wasn’t easy.

You weren’t sure how to act around him, how to behave. For nine months you had envisioned this moment, conjuring up countless things to say to him, all the insults you wanted to hurl his way. But now that it was happening, you found yourself torn between wanting to hug and choke him.

It seemed best to do neither.

”Um, hi?” Peter’s grip on your shoulders tightened, just for a second, as if he were trying to prove to himself that you were really standing in front of him. Once he seemed satisfied with your physicality, he stepped back and released his grip on you entirely, subsequently making your other hand fall from his chest.

”You’re not-I mean-you don’t go here.” He rasped, laughing awkwardly as he ran a hand through his hair, trying to ground himself.

”You’re right, I don’t go here!” You pointlessly confirmed, voice raising several octaves as anxiety took over. “Very observant.”

You cringed at the statement. Very observant?-you thought to yourself, biting down on the edge of your tongue as you watched Peter’s brows knit together-could've said anything, and that’s what you picked?

He didn’t even acknowledge the useless comment, only letting it hang in the air between you as he continued to wait for a true answer.

“I came to see you.” You choked out an honest answer, starting to shrink beneath his heavy gaze. You tried to step back, instinctively wanting to create distance between the two of you, but all you achieved was pressing yourself against the wall.

There was no escaping him.

He was quick to respond, making it clear just how high-strung he was. ”How did you find me?”

”I’m a reporter.” You reminded him, offering it up as a vague answer to his question. He’d likely expected the response, given the way his eyes narrowed in frustration. “Finding people is part of my job description.”

Peter always said that getting an answer out of you was like playing a game of charades, one that others very rarely won. You were a pro at dancing around the facts, only ever revealing them when they served to benefit you.

It was one of the many reasons you were so good at your job.

“Is that why you’re here?” His question carried a sharp edge, his irritation growing stronger now as his jaw tightened. “For the Bugle?”

Your body became tense, your shoulders squaring off as anxiety once again tried to shove to the surface. As you thought of the images you’d seen, the ones that were hanging just upstairs, your blood ran cold. You did your best not to let it show, instead trying to hide your fear behind a look of confusion. “Why would I be here for the Bugle?”

At first, he only stared at you, his brows raising in an incredulous manner. You forced yourself to stare back despite the discomfort it brought you. Then, finally, he answered. “You wanna talk about Spider-Man, right?”

Your heart sank into your stomach, lips turning dry as they parted. There was nothing good about the way the vigilante’s name rolled off his tongue, and you didn’t like it one bit. The semi-hushed tone he’d spoken in, laced with an essence of bitterness that one wouldn’t expect from the person that donned the mask.

Hesitantly running your tongue along your now chapped lips, you responded in a shaky voice. “Why would I wanna talk about Spider-Man?”

Harry’s advice rang through your mind—the same advice that had been mirrored by Aunt May, to remain wary of Peter—and you suddenly felt lightheaded. There was no way he could know that you found out about his identity that night, right?

No, of course not. It was impossible.

Peter appeared far more relaxed than you, his shoulders lazily lifting into a shrug. He didn’t seem to notice the sweat forming along your brow, making you think that you were doing an alright job at hiding your emotions. “Jameson wants new pictures of him, doesn’t he?” He threw out a guess.

Your shoulders instantly sagged with relief, your lungs aching as you lightly blew out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Given what you’d seen upstairs, you decided it would be best to stick to Harry and May’s advice. Peter didn’t need to know that you were aware of who wore Spider-Man's mask. Not right now, at least.

“I'm right, aren’t I?” Peter insisted impatiently, interrupting your racing thoughts and snapping you back into reality.

“Do you have new pictures of him?” You hastily snapped back.

“No. I don’t.” He lied straight through his teeth, once again running a hand through his already messy hair as he squeezed his eyes shut. It was obvious that he wasn’t planning to share any details of Spidey’s newly developed photoshoot hanging in the darkroom, and it would be against your best interest to press further, so you stayed quiet. When he opened his eyes again, he stared directly into yours. “And I don’t plan on taking any, so if that’s why you’re here then you’re wasting your time.”

You couldn’t recall ever hearing Peter sound so exhausted before. His recent lack of sleep was made painfully evident by the varying shades of purple painting the skin around his eyes. How long had he looked this way? Has it been since Gwen? In some sick way you hoped that you were right, knowing that grief being the cause was better than the alternative—the idea that his lack of sleep related to his involvement with Aleksei.

A part of you still refused to consider the images you’d seen as damning evidence that Peter had been the one to kill Aleksei Sytsevich. You couldn’t let yourself think that, refusing to believe that Peter Parker was anything even close to a murderer. It wasn’t possible.

But, as much as you hated to admit it, they proved that he was in some way involved. An accessory, at least. For some reason, hopefully a good one, he hadn’t stopped Aleksei’s murder from happening.

That came with its own dangerous implications.

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, trying to decide what direction you wanted to steer the conversation in, which angle would serve you best. With a deep breath, you made your choice. “Well, it’s good that that’s not why I’m here then.”

He looked surprised. “Wait,” he laughed awkwardly, “you’re not writing a piece on him?”

There was a thin line creasing the space between his brows, a strange expression on his face. His reaction wasn’t entirely unexpected, especially because you were known for your articles on Spider-Man. But this wasn’t a look that showed he was shocked to hear you were passing up on a story, it was a look of pure offense.

You fought the urge to ask him why he cared so much, curious to find out if he had been expecting you to rush to Spider-Man's defense in the media. The only reason you held yourself back was the fear that maybe you were wrong, that maybe he hadn’t wanted you to defend him at all; perhaps he just wanted more press for his potential crimes.

”Seems like the Globe has it covered.” You told him, trying to sound disinterested. You hoped that he would buy your act. “No need to waste anymore ink on a story that’s already been told, right?”

Peter knew you well enough to know that there was more to it than that. Fortunately, he was willing to reason that your potential avoidance of Spider-Man related to that night, the last night all of you were together, and the events that neither of you wanted to talk about. Besides, even if he did want to mention it, he couldn’t do so without exposing his identity to you, an identity he wasn’t aware you already knew about.

So, as much as he didn’t want to let it go, he had no other choice.

”O-kay.” He stretched the word out, shaking his head lightly as he worked to regain his bearings in the conversation. As he did so, a few strands of hair fell against his forehead. He was quick to push them back. “Well, if that’s not it, then why are you here?”

There was only a second of hesitation, air hissing between your teeth as you sucked in a breath, crossing your fingers behind your back. You hoped Gwen would forgive you for the lie you were about to tell.

”Helen Stacy.”

The first emotion to wash over Peter was pain. It was obvious, showing in the way his shoulders slumped forwards and his bottom lip trembled, wincing as the surname of his dead lover echoed through his ears. It was the second emotion that was harder to detect, having been more cleverly concealed than the first. Anger.

You could see it in his eyes, his pupils dilating as he started to see red. Your own gaze flickered to his sides, stopping on his clenched fists, knuckles turning a pale shade of white. It made you feel uncomfortable, especially since you were the one on the receiving end of that look. You nervously cleared your throat, starting to fiddle with the strap of your bag.

“She called the other day and asked about running a memorial piece for Gwen’s anniversary. Obviously, she thought it would be best if Gwen’s friends put it together—you know, do it how we used to for the school paper. I’ll do the writing; you take care of the pictures.”

It was hard to sound confident as you elaborated upon the fabricated situation, too busy trying to focus on anything other than his heavy gaze. You focused on the floor, mostly, staring over at where your phone still laid on the ground. Still, even without looking at him, you could feel the weight of his attention. The air around you began to grow thin, every breath turning into a battle. You felt like you were being slowly suffocated by his fury, your lungs burning within your chest.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea-”

“You can’t say no, Pete.” You cut him off, forcibly lowering the walls surrounding your own trauma, using it to manipulate him. You didn’t feel bad about it, either. “We both lost our best friend that night, and that sucked. But Helen lost her kid. This is the least we can do for her.”

As the last word fell from your mouth, you forcefully pried your gaze off the ground and begrudgingly met his once again. Terror slid into your veins as you did, your body already preparing itself for that seething look of his—but it vanished. There was no trace of anger on his face. All that remained was the slightest glimmer of remorse.

His fists unclenched, mindlessly cracking his knuckles. Then he sighed, followed by a reluctant nod. “You’re right. She’s been through a lot, and if this will help bring her some sort of... I don’t know-” he waved his hands slightly, looking troubled by his own choice of words, “closure, then I’ll do what I can to help.”

Your mouth curved into a smile.

It seemed like a good sign, you figured, that he was willing to help. It reignited whatever hope you had left that despite whatever mess he had gotten into as Spider-Man, that he was still the same selfless Peter Parker you’d always known. He could still be saved. And, fortunately, you had now crafted the excuse you needed to get closer to him and figure out how to save him.

”Great!” You spoke a little too loud, your excitement coming off a touch too strong. You tried to lessen it, though the uncharacteristic reaction certainly hadn’t gone unnoticed by Peter. “Meet me at Sylvia’s tomorrow at six, okay? We can start going over everything and make a rough outline for the memorial!”

Peter immediately went still when he heard the name of the restaurant the four of you used to frequent. He hadn’t set foot in Sylvia’s since Gwen’s death, too afraid to face the memories hiding within its walls. He tried to speak, tried to tell you no, but he didn’t have the chance as you interrupted him again.

“Here,” You pulled a business card from your bag, thrusting it towards him with a pointed look, “in case you forgot my number.”

You didn’t hide the animosity behind the statement, using it as another tool to play on whatever guilt he might harbor for what he’d done to you. It seemed to work, given the fact that he promptly shut his mouth and chose not to argue. Instead, he cautiously reached out, plucking the cards from your fingers.

“Try not to ghost me for another nine months.” You playfully added on, the words joined by a smile that resembled something of a threat as you reminded him, “After all, I know where to find you now.”

Peter just returned the smile, tight lipped and far less ferocious than the one you’d given him. He knew that eventually you’d want an answer as to why he’d been avoiding you, but not right now. Now wasn’t the time for it.

So, he stuffed the card in his pocket as you skillfully skirted around him, going to grab your phone off the floor. Once you had it in your hand, you started towards the exit, already starting to dial Brant’s number. “I’ll see you tomorrow, y/n.” Peter called after you, watching as you pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold.

There was an eerie sense of familiarity accompanying his goodbye, one that left your heart swelling as the words sought to soothe any of the still-bleeding wounds that remained from that night. The comforting feeling was almost enough to make you forget about the images you’d seen in the darkroom, the ones that now also lived within the camera roll on your phone.

Almost—but not quite.

Brant answered on the first ring, seemingly overjoyed as another lie easily fell from your lips, confirming with her that Peter agreed to help take photos of Spider-Man so you could try and plead his case to the public—the reason she thought the two of you were searching for Peter. She was just as eager as you were to leave Columbia’s posh campus, swiftly agreeing when you asked her to meet you outside of the mess hall so the two of you could head back to the Bugle.

Now, waiting alone in front of the mirrored windows, you stared silently at the reflection in front of you. A girl with platinum hair, neatly tucked back by a black headband, stared back at you with her familiar bright green eyes. They were filled with enough dismay to make your chest ache, ridding you of any comfort that Peter’s familiarity had given you.

”You’re gonna have to see him again.” The somber tone she used was unbefitting of someone that you could only think to describe as sunshine personified; everything you ever wished you could be. “You’ll need his help.” Gwen told you. “You know that don’t you?”

You knew she wasn’t talking about Peter.

When you didn’t reply, she decided she needed to convince you further, tailoring her approach so it had the best chance of swaying you. She reached a handout, and you knew that if you had closed your eyes, you would be able to feel her fingertips brush against your palm as she squeezed your hand.

God, you missed that feeling. You missed her.

And it was because you missed her that you refused to close your eyes. Refused to let your brain mimic something that was no longer real.

Gwen’s doe eyes turned glossy, her rosy lips puckering into a pout that could make even the most unyielding man fold. ”He’s gonna need your help, too, y/n.”

You bit your cheek, thinking of the bottle of pills laying in the bottom of your bag, the ones you hadn’t had to take in so long now. You were getting better.

"You can’t save one without saving the other.” Gwen tried to tell you, although it only served to make you angry at her, unable to figure out why she would feel that way. She shouldn’t want you to save Harry, not when he was the reason she wasn’t here right now!

If she were here, really here, then maybe you would tell her that. Remind her of how well her altruistic lifestyle had ended.

But she wasn’t. So, you didn’t.

Instead, you turned on your heel, forcing yourself to turn away from the reflection. You immediately saw a flash of royal blue in the sea of students as Brant forced her way through the crowd. Fine—you thought to yourself, offering Gwen a silent answer as you started to make your way towards Brant.

”This place is a goddamn maze!” You heard Brant huff noisily once you were in earshot of each other, her bobbed hair swaying manically. She clearly hadn’t had a good time, but you weren’t really interested in hearing about it, either. Instead, you found yourself distracted by her appearance. Her neatly styled hairstyle, sharp winged liner, and stylish outfit. It made you think of the girls from earlier, the ones who had made you so self-conscious, and it gave you an idea.

If you were going to do this—follow Gwen’s advice and save both of your boys—then you needed to try and save yourself, too. And, luckily, you and Brant seemed to be about the same size.

“Do you wanna go shopping?” You asked bluntly, watching as Brant doubled-back, clearly not expecting your question.

She blinked, thinking it over before hesitantly replying, “Um, sure?”

Ravencroft could wait until tomorrow morning.

tag list - @pompeygirl89 @pockyandme

a/n - hi anyone who's bothering to read this! i'm super excited about this chapter for a variety of reasons and i hope that you enjoyed it! feel free to leave any comments or tips, i always appreciate them and can't wait to write more harry & dark!peter content in the next part <3

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indyanapolis898 · 1 year ago

Text

Mastermind

Peter Parker x f!reader

Synopsis: Peter has a crush on you from afar. One day you ask him to tutor you and things go from there.

Note: This really doesn't follow any specific canon from the movies.

"You know staring at Y/N won't make her like you."

Peter's head shot up at the sound of a voice behind him, that of MJ's.

"W-what are you talking about?" Peter chuckled awkwardly, doing a horrible job of lying.

"Me and Ned notice how much you watch Y/N. You always bring up any interaction you two have- and so much more! You like her. Just admit it, nerd," MJ explained amid the noisy school cafeteria.

"So what if I do?" Peter shrugged as MJ sat next to him.

"You should make a move- oh wait- you're too scared," MJ said with a sly smirk, begging him to fight back, which he did.

"Nervous? I'm an Avenger! I don't get nervous!" Peter hissed.

"Then go talk to her, Avenger" MJ shrugged like it was the only obvious option.

"Well- I- I just don't want her to think I'm weird."

"Well, then you're out of luck in that regard," she joked dryly. "You two used to be close. Why can't you spark up a conversation about, like, the past?"

"'Cause it's random, and also, we were friends in middle school! That was a while ago, MJ!"

"OK, Parker, I give up. Enjoy your futile people-watching."

Peter watched as MJ walked away to the lunch line. She wasn't wrong. He was too scared to even consider being near Y/N.

The boy sighed, going back to eating his lunch after you left the room.

___

"Alrighty!" Mr. Harrington clapped his hands together. "We have a new member for this semester's Academic Decathlon!"

The club whispered among themselves in anticipation of who it could be. Peter glanced up from his book when, of course, you entered the classroom with a new copy of the textbook.

"I'm sure you all know Y/N, so welcome her into the club and help her get acquainted with the material for today's practice."

You smiled shyly at the group, waving and going to take a seat in the open chair next to Flash.

Peter silently groaned, letting his head fall onto the desk. Of course, it was you, and of course, you had to sit next to Flash. Flash had an obvious crush on you as well.

"Peter. Wanna start off today's practice?" Mr. Harrington asked, staring directly at Peter as he lifted his head off his desk. Everyone was looking at him.

Peter sighed, standing up with his textbook to go to the podium to call the questions.

The first round went by fast. You answered three times, getting all answers right. Peter could feel himself smile every time you rang the bell.

Peter tried his best to compliment you when you answered during the second round.

At one point, Peter asked a question the Flash rang in for. Peter watched as the boy mouthed to you: watch this.

Flash got the question wrong, making you slightly giggle. Peter chucked, as did the rest of the class, at Flash's misplaced confidence. However, Peter wasn't laughing at Flash this time- he was laughing because you laughed. Peter wanted to cling on to any bit of you he could. He was glad Flash's terrible attempt to show off failed.

After a few more rounds, Peter traded off with another student. Peter didn't want to be like Flash and do a flashy show-off of his skills, but he did want to impress you.

Peter heard the first question- ringing in as soon as he could. He wasn't confident with his odds but gave a shaky answer, which was revealed to be correct.

Peter smiled slightly. When he glanced to the left, you were smiling at him, presumably because he aced the question. He smiled back at you, hoping this was some sort of connection. You were noticing him!

If that was what it took, he could do it. Peter answered every question he could, getting almost all right. He got a thumbs-up from you once after a question!

___

After practice ended, he was packing his bag to leave when you approached him. Peter felt his heart speeding up dramatically.

"Hey, Peter. Love the jacket," you started things off, making Peter smile and examine his jacket, vowing to wear it more often.

"Thank you. I... like your shirt. Um- you did good on your first day," Peter gave a tightlipped smile, trying to act normal.

"Thanks, but you were on fire! Like seriously, some of those questions were insane," you gushed, grinning the whole time.

"Oh, wow, uh, thank you!" Peter stuttered out, causing you to giggle. "You gave great answers, too!" He rushed to follow up.

"Yeah, about that... those were the bare minimum. I joined this club to help raise my grades. Clearly you know your stuff, so... I have the biggest favor to ask."

Peter raised his brows. "Uh, yeah, what's that?"

"So, it's OK if you say no because it's so random, but could you tutor me in some of the subjects covered here? I could really use the help, but again it's OK if y-"

"I'll do it," Peter agreed quickly, blushing at how eager he sounded. You grinned largely.

"Seriously? 'Cause I could pay you if that's necessary."

"Y/N, you don't have to pay anything. Honestly, I mean, it's the least I can do for the girl who defended me from Jose in 8th grade," Peter recalled a memory from their past, mentally punching himself for saying something that most likely meant nothing to her.

"You still remember that? Wow, I didn't know I could even make an impact like that," you said, surprised in a good way.

Peter decided to roll with it. "Uh, yeah, I mean, Jose was a jerk, so I was just glad someone stood up for me. So, uh, yeah," Peter awkwardly chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

You shrugged nonchalantly. "Anytime. But yeah, thank you so much for agreeing. When are you free to go over the material?"

Peter supposed one evening without Spider-Man wouldn't hurt. "Tonight," he said right away. "Um, like five?"

"Can do. At the library?"

"Absolutely."

"See you then, Peter. Thanks again," you waved at him as you left the class to go to your next.

___

"So, you're telling me that all you had to do was be nerdy, and she just came up to you?" MJ recounted Peter's story in a tone laced with disbelief.

"Yes! Seriously. If you didn't have to miss today's practice for your re-do test, you would've seen it! So, believe it or not, I've gotta get to the library soon and tutor Y/N," Peter said cockily, standing up from the barstool at the cafe MJ part-timed at.

MJ just rolled her eyes but gave a genuine smile. "Good luck. Don't screw it up."

"Thanks? I'll try not to."

With that, Peter slung his bag onto his back and left the shop, library-bound.

___

The library wasn't awfully busy that weekday, making it easy to find a table in a corner. Peter laid his books and notebooks out, realizing you wouldn't know where he was, nor did he have your number to text you.

Everything worked out, however, when you wandered into the back section he was sitting, looking lost. Your eyes lit up at the sight of him, making Peter's stomach churn in a good way.

You walked with a purpose over to the table, sitting your stuff down. "I was looking all over for you," you grinned, not meaning it in a guilt-tripping way.

Peter realized he actually had to reply instead of staying in a daydream. "Oh- yeah. I sat here and realized you might not be able to find me, but luckily you did."

"Yeah, it only took like, seven different aisles," you laughed before opening your notebook.

Peter couldn't tell if he was just nervous or if he just loved the sound of your laugh, but his heart raced.

"So, I was thinking... we could piggyback off what we did in practice today?"

"Sounds good. I'm sure whatever I learn will be good when you're teaching it," you said, laying your chin on the palm of your hand.

Peter could feel his face heat up. He ducked his head down to the textbook and chuckled. "Yeah... I- uh- just start in on page five right here."

For thirty minutes, Peter was able to impart some knowledge your way. After you two finished a chapter, you turned to Peter with a closed-mouth smile. "This has been really helpful, thank you."

Peter frowned. "You're done?"

You continued smiling. "Just for today, yeah. But I'm really hungry... do you wanna get something to eat?"

Peter perked up at the invitation to continue spending time together. "Yeah, I'd love to!" He said very excitedly, to which you just giggled.

"OK, c'mon. I'll show you this really good Thai place I like down the block."

You and Peter collected your things, exiting the library together to walk down the sidewalk to the restaurant of choice.

"So, you had that Stark Internship, right?"

"Yeah- still do, actually. I'm still just the young guy, though."

"Hey, they'll realize what a dedicated worker you are, and when they do, they'll have to give you more opportunities."

"You think so?"

"You seem like you have a great work ethic, Peter, so yeah, I do think so."

Peter just grinned, looking down at the sidewalk. You were making him nervous.

___

The restaurant you two entered was moderately nice for a casual New York City restaurant.

You both ordered at the counter and then sat at an empty table.

Peter wanted to try and flirt, but he knew he'd be super awkward and make things weird. Nevertheless, he still attempted to gain your favor.

"You caught on really fast with the Academic stuff. It was like you already knew it! So, I guess you're a natural."

You looked away and grinned. "Thank you. I- um- guess I just needed a few reminders, is all."

Peter cocked a brow, but their food was placed in front of them at that moment. The two ate, sharing conversation about middle school and how annoying some of their classes were now.

Somehow, the topic got moved on to Flash.

"You know Flash has a thing for you," Peter decided to throw bait into the water as the pair left the restaurant, being that they had finished their food.

You furrowed your brows. "Yeah, I know. We actually have two classes together- three counting Decathalon now. He hits on me every day. It gets tiring really fast."

"What?" Peter exclaimed in fake shock. "You don't appreciate all his futile attempts to be a womanizer?"

You laughed and shook your head. "Crazy, right? I might be the only one who doesn't. I just- I just already have my eyes on someone else."

"Oh," Peter mumbled aloud, regretting how disappointed he sounded. "Um... is it weird to ask-"

"Who it is?" you cut him off. "Yeah, I was hoping you would've guessed by now," you stopped walking, Peter doing the same, peering at you with confusion.

"I-I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to be invasive. I-"

"It's you, Peter. I've been trying to flirt with you and give you hints, hoping you'd make a move," you chuckled to fill the air.

"Oh... Oh!" Peter put a hand to his chest. "You," he pointed at you, then back at himself. "Like me?"

"Yes!" You desperately hoped he felt the same.

"I- woah. I really like you too, Y/N," Peter sputtered out.

"Really? Because I was starting to think my plan failed."

"Plan?"

"You said it yourself in the restaurant... I already knew that stuff we were learning. I don't need tutoring. I just decided to ask you so... I dunno," you looked away embarrassed. "So we could do something outside of school."

When you looked back up, Peter was grinning widely. "You made a plan just to be with me?"

You nodded.

"That's- wow. I was trying to drop hints all day too, but I suck at anything flirting-wise. I was just excited you kept asking to do stuff, but you planned this all along. You made the dominoes fall until we were here."

"I didn't know this would be how I confessed, but yeah. I don't need tutoring when I'm the mastermind," you joked and shrugged.

"Maybe it's my turn to do something..." Peter looked into your eyes, searching your face. "Can I kiss you?"

You leaned in, letting that be your answer. His lips met yours as you two kissed in the darkening evening. The cool Queens air hit the side of your face as you pulled away, catching your breath.

"Was that good? Because I'm definitely not an expert."

You just giggled. "Yes, it was great, Peter."

"Can I walk you home?" Peter pursed his lips, waiting for an answer.

You nodded and thanked him graciously with another kiss. With that, you two set off toward your apartment as the street lights flickered on in the chilled air.

___

"...And then we kissed. Boom! In your face!"

MJ rolled her eyes and laughed while Ned clapped Peter on the back.

"Dude! You got a girlfriend!"

Peter chuckled at Ned's enthusiasm. Peter's phone dinged at that moment. It was a text from you.

"Gotta go, guys. Peter has a second date today with Y/N."

"Did you just refer to yourself in the third person?"

"Yep, deal with it!" Peter called, already out the door of the cafe.

___

You were waiting at the subway station. Peter jogged down the stairs, joining you to enter the train and go ice skating.

You reached your hand out, Peter taking it as you two entered the train.

It was only the second date, but you knew Peter was going to make you happy. You simply looked up at Peter, smiling, which he returned with his signature grin.

The train's doors shut, and you two were carried away down the tracks, ready for what was to come.

#mcu peter x reader #peter parker x female reader #peter parker x reader #mcu peter parker #tom holland peter parker #tom holland #tom holland x reader #fluff #first kiss #peter is oblivious #flash thompson #mj watson #ned leeds #fanfic #fanfiction #cross posted on ao3 #Spotify

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poeticallyspiteful · 2 years ago

Text

masterlist

fluff - ❀

angst - ✰

regulus black

his muse (pt. one) ❀ ✰

remus lupin

coming soon…

charlie weasley

reflecting light ❀ ✰

newt scamander

kiss it better ❀

jj maybank

coming soon…

pope heyward

coming soon…

rafe cameron

all for you ︎❀

peter parker

coming soon…

pietro maximoff

coming soon…

luke castellan

soulmates, right? ✰

ethan landry

the way things change (prologue) ❀ ✰

the way things change (ch. one) ❀ ✰

the way things change (ch. two) ❀ ✰

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missmarveledsblog · 2 months ago

Text

Once in a lifetime kinda deal ( Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader)

part three: Thunder and wedding dresses

summary :

The first night would be awkward if it wasn't for the fact she was shit scared of thunder

warning:

goofy , fluffy , angst , slight ptsd , parental death , steve is big brother goals , bucky is just goals , fast burn , arranged marriage (but not ) mutual pining , age gap

previous part

She felt some what awkward sitting watching TV in one of his shirts and pair of sweats that swallowed her whole as he sat end of same sofa like two teenagers afraid they would get caught . Which didn't last long when the first clash of thunder hit make her yelp and grip the pillow . One fear she had was thunder and yet she was failing to conceal said fear .

“ doll you ok” he looked, seeing her body shake and finger nails dig into the plush of his sofa.

“ yeah scary part” she nodded at tv.

“ the Simpsons?” he asked . But before he could ask anymore her phone rang cutting him off from further question .

“ hey stevie , no it's ok , you will not “ she began to sass. “Idiot go to bed” she said before hanging up .

“ sorry could I get a drink?” She asked.

“ yeah doll this is gonna be your home so don't need to ask” he nodded waiting til she left the room before he answered his phone . “ hey stevie” he mocked her voice.

“ funny look I didn't think my plan through is she ok? He asked quickly.

“ skittish why punk” .

“ shit look she terrified of thunder , don't laugh asshole , you know she lost her mom right?” He could hear the genuine worry from his best friend.

“ yeah she never said how I'm guessing thunder was involved” .

“ shit you do have a brain , look they were coming home through storm main reason tony wants her there but the car wasn't found for a couple of hours which meant she was stuck with her mom and”.

“ thunder” he sighed only for clash and then a crash what sounded like glass coming from his kitchen.

“ look, stay home, I can help” he said before rushing off to the kitchen seeing the glass all over floor slight trail of blood leading to under his table. He wasn't aware he even had a heart til it broke at sight of her hand covering her ears one hand bleeding.

“ oh doll “ he crouched.

“save whatever joke you have for another time ok I know it's childish but this different” she went to explain.

“Come here” he held his hand out as she unsurely took him only flinching at the next crash then another sending her flying into his chest.

“ I got you doll, it's ok I got you come on '' he scooped her up in his arms carrying her past the sitting room and straight up the stairs passing the guest room and straight to his room. each crack of thunder she gripped tighter even though it hurt her hand but nothing hurt more than the flashback every time. how she was back in the car , her mom gone , sound of rain hitting the ground heavy and hard . How her little voice went hoarse from crying and screaming for help and no one came. She felt like that little girl who thought no one was coming to save only for a young steve rogers to pull her from the wreck holding her close to his chest as she sobbed not letting go when paramedic tried to check her over or when she heard her dad voice trying to get to her fighting with probably cops . That night was probably the worst night of her life but cemented the bond between the two. Every Time since the thunder would start and no matter what Steve would always be there to comfort her once he couldn't and she locked herself in the bathroom only for him to find her the next morning sleeping on the floor. Sounds of thunder drowned out when she looked up seeing bucky turning music on to drown it out still holding her in his arms and he maneuvered easily pulling out the first aid kit . He picked the glass out of her palm , cleaning and wrapping it all while he reassured her it was OK he had here . She didn't know how or why but it worked for the first time . He lay them down in his bed , music drowning out , curtains pulled everything to block the storm out . The feeling of his own palm rubbing up and down her back soothed every muscle in her body , she felt herself relax , her eyes heavy but before she completely dozed off she felt his lips on his forehead before drifting off.

He could hear the front door open knowing who it was instinctively well not instinctively since he told him he was coming. But the relief on steve's face when he see her soundly sleeping the thunder and lightning passed .

“ she’s ok i mean she hurt her hand but she ok” bucky said not daring to move the big bad gangster reduced to a teddy bear .

“ she calmed down and let you help i mean that’s really something pal” he smiled .

“ she was so scared i mean she was almost in a whole other place” he didn’t even realize his own hold on her became tighter only til she began to stir.

“ is it over” she asked head lifting off his chest tired eyes looking into his if steve was to pinpoint the moment of james buchanan barnes falling love that was the very moment. He almost didn’t want to say anything leave them be eyes locked that was till she sensed the other person in the room.

“ Stevie” she smiled brightly climbing over bucky making him let out an oof from her leg hitting his groin.

“ Hey princess, I heard Bucky did good” he hugged her back .

“ he did maybe just as good as you i would say better but boy that ego” she teased only to yelp when a strong pair of hands gripped her waist pulling her back onto the bed . the big bad scary man that put fear into the people of new york and probably the majority of the united states tickling his soon to be wife like a child .

“ stoppp” she giggled before jumping off the bed completely. “ you child” she ran into the bathroom as he and steve laugh.

“ still business?” steve asked . “ hey doll me and steve are getting drink if you need us” he began pushing the blonde out of the room .

“ ok spill” steves arms crossed as the two stood in the kitchen .

“ I may have known her longer well known of her” he scratched the back of his neck.

“ you followed her , since the meeting with stark was a month ago .. he told me anyways so how long did you follow her” .

“ four weeks , i wanted to make sure she was not some sort of monster i mean JJ then more and more i seen her was well i kinda liked it , she was at a party daycare done they hired the fairies and i stayed behind and to see her again , the more i saw well more i like and now its worse because i’m aware it fucked” he explained.

“ oh very fucked , bit perverted too buckaroo” she walked into the room .

“ you know it bad manners to listen to conversation” he spat out quickly.

“ yeah so is stalking” she laughed as steve watched god the two were as bad as each other.

“ not so innocent princess” steve said .

“ what you mean” she sat on counter . “ well i remember a certain time when becca came and bucky dropped her off … what was it i’m so gonna marry that guy he’s prince charming” steve mused.

“ i was 11” she rolled her eyes .

“ that didn’t help me at all steve” bucky winced.

“ sorry joe goldberg” steve snicker and she broke out laughing.

“ YOU the series” she said seeing his head tilt.

“ oh fuck you both” he huffed getting her a drink .

“ hey on serious note can you drop me to studio tomorrow” she asked.

“ studio?” he asked.

“ dance studio of course kiddo we can go” steve nodded.

“ don’t call her kiddo man” .

“ practically a child bride here” she teased. “ i hate you both” he huffed as the two laughed .

Once steve knew she was ok and well the two had their fun in making fun of bucky he left . she didn’t even bother going to the guest room instead she went straight to his and he could contain the smile on his face .

“ no funny business i like your bed” she lied more she like cuddling into the man that was in said bed .

“ promise” he held his hand up .

“ can i steal a different shirt please” she asked seeing the blood all over her.

“ course here” he smiled throwing her one of henleys what he didn’t expect was her to take the blood soaked T-shirt off in front of him or his own eyes looking at the ceiling when he felt her climb over her probably was his worse mistake .

“ do you need sweats too” he asked trying to think of anything other then how heavenly her ass looks in the panties.

“ nope i’m good thank you” she lay on her side pulling the covers hiding the smile she had .

“ goodnight you minx” he chuckled.

“ night stalker” she sang .

“ not going to live that down am i?” he asked. “ might include it in my vows” she teased.

“ I want a divorce” he groaned yet his face said something else throwing his arms around her waist and pulling her to his chest . “ i get steve , you can have sam” she yawned. That night was first night he felt peace , first time his dreams weren’t plagued of the skeletons of his past. That was the first sleep in decades that bucky had a dream instead of a nightmare.

The next morning he awoke only to find his arms empty as well as the bed. Another thing he noticed was his dresser opening the one that contained his boxer shorts . slightly disappointed he dragged himself from the bed only to see the time was ten am never in the last five years even has he sleep past seven am . growls and groans as he walked into the kitchen only to see books spread across the table one leg propped under her as she sat reading over her well he guessed college work while she talked to his personal chef jack .

“ hello mr barnes” he nodded, completely stiffening up at sight of his boss .

“ Morning , morning doll” he smiled brightly. Morning bucket, sorry I didn't wake you, it looked like you needed the extra sleep” she smiled as Jack handed her a cup of coffee, something the chef always told his boss he was too busy to do.

“Mrs barnes sorry i mean Y/N was telling me about her studies in college , she is a smart lady sir” jack called over his shoulder.

“ not barnes yet but might as well get used to that huh” she winked .

“ she smart ass more like it what you studying doll” he asked leaning over her shoulder his mouth so close to her ear , hot breath on her neck grinning at how her breath hitched .

“ well fellow smart ass i’m studying for the test in two weeks it’s like a mock exam but i need to ace that or i’ve no hope for the big one at end of the year and then i’m going to study because i’ve also my bar exam soon might keep your ass out of jail” she winked as jack snorted.

“ well i know both so let me help” he pulled the cheer over beside her . true to his word both subjects the man did know what he was talking about it wasn’t til the babbles cut into the study session . Her attention now on the man as he held his well now son , cooing and smiling at the baby made her heart do a tumble and she could only feel the real raw feelings that bloomed so shortly that it almost scared her shitless.

“ hey pretty girl “ sam called snapping her out of her dreamy staring .

“ hey sammy” she smiled.

“ hows the hand steve told me” she could see his worried expression .

this time bucky watched as she talked to the man seeing his bestfriends care for the woman was more than a job , they truly whole hearted cared for her and he couldn’t blame them at all .

“ lets have breakfast then head to your dad’s” bucky called.

“ oh great i’m starving” sam rubbed his hands together before he started moving her books only for her to slap the spoon off his hand the noise of the metal hitting the knuckle sent the babbling JJ Into a fit of giggles making her do it again.

“ ouch you little shit” sam yelp pulling his hand away .

“ But it makes him so happy,” she pouted.

“ Yeah me too” bucky smirked .

“ You both are mean,” the man huffed.

“ Y/N is a sweetheart mr wilson” Jack defended .

“ thanks jack” she batted her lashes.

“ she got them all wrapped already “ bucky rolled his eyes.

“ it’s cause i’m cute” she hummed popping a blueberry into her mouth .

“ pepper has your bag ready so when you wanna head studio” sam chuckled .

“ she’s a gem , i’m going to miss her” she sighed. “ she moving not dying” bucky chuckled.

“ yeah away from me” she glared.

“ god you two are way too perfect” sam shook his head.

“ i’m better” they both said at same time.

“ Y/N IS” Sam and jack said at same time .

“ hey i pay you and your suppose to be my best friend” bucky looked at the men.

Pulling up to her house was nice seeing Pepper collecting a package off of the porch. What she didn’t expect was Wanda standing beside her two talking away as she hopped out of the car.

“ Hey where are your clothes?” Pepper asked, seeing her still in Bucky's henley and boxers .

“ need to be washed and get your head out of the gutter” she looked at wanda’s reaction.

“ How's your hand princess?” Pepper looked at the bandage.

“ It hurts… but why are you here?” she asked her best friend .

“ Well your wedding is in four days, we need a dress,” Wanda smiled.

“ Four days wait huh?” she asked .

“ oh yeah i forgot to tell you that one” bucky rubbed back of his neck .

“ oh shit one minute” she scampered up the steps almost falling but she didn’t stop not even when she nearly crashed into her dad.

“ nice to see you too” he rolled his eyes.

“ we got a few things to do barnes so come on” he walked to the suv .

“ we got her it’s ok bye now” wanda waved as he reluctantly got into the car .

“ studio later” he smiled at the text.

“ how was she last night?” Tony asked, pretending to be looking at his phone.

“ scared but i sorted it” bucky nodded still bit annoyed which was his own fault pushing the wedding forward.

“ well we got to meet the judge this morning for the courthouse part , pepper sorted venue for after party , you need a suit and she getting her dress , tomorrow i’ll do talk in her school at lunch bakery for cake tasting then afternoon catering , we will be sticking around for three months then i’ll retire steve and me will work with you over that time and well what did i miss” tony listed it off.

“ why me?” he asked.

“ because you out of this shit show of a life are probably only one gets shit done , keeps his word and steve and nat vouched about you when i asked about you” he answered honestly.

“ Why are you leaving?” .

“ i’ve met the one i would give it up for i wish i could take them with me , honestly but y/n in middle of nowhere be like shining after couple of days” he shook his head.

“ yeah she likes college even i can see that woman will rule the world” bucky shook his head.

“ oh most definitely i’ve no doubt i am glad she is not doing that fairy dress up job” tony chuckled.

“ i mean, I'm surprised you let her work, '' Bucky said .

“ oh you’ll learn she’s headstrong , once she sets her mind to something well she keeps to it , its the russian in her'' bucky smiled at his words , wondering what that would entail.

“ she already has many , many friends with connections , she managed to get me some of those connections so she gives you advice, take it or even think it over as much as i hate to say it , she is good at this” tony put his phone down.

“ connections?” Bucky's brow arched.

“They are invited to the after party. It will be nice for her to do the introduction and well I wanna see your reaction,” Tony smugly grinned.

“ ok not ominous , maximoff that name sounds familiar by the way” he said.

“ her brother was a runner, got shot , hydra and a whole ass mess before their mom went mad. I said i’d look after the girl who even walked her down the aisle last year. They call him vision, great hacker, one connection for you,” he winked .

“ professor looking guy is a hacker” bucky didn’t mean to sound so surprised but he as he said looked like a professor.

“ best there is so it’s good to have him on your side anyways come on steve , peter and JJ and well rest of the guys will meet us for suit fittings which is on me and so is the whole thing since well your doing me major solid , also peters best friend ned who may be devastated giving his love for our princess” tony chuckled.

“ Who else is going to give me a hard time?” Bucky looked pointedly at the man .

“ a lot of people but it just shows how amazing my child is” the billionaire shrugged.

“ great just great let's do this'' he sighed.

“ finally we’ve been waiting for ever” Yelena huffed.

“ ignore her we’ve been here five minutes' ' nat rolled her eyes.

“ can’t believe you're getting married,” Maria Hill smiled softly.

“ yeah me either but hey let's get a dress” she snorted .

“ can we get food after”yelena called as they walked into the store

. “ well i’m going to the studio after” she ignored their sad looks.

“ hey wait i’m here sorry your stupid brother told me wrong store” the girl painted as the staff looked at her strangely.

“ hey MJ thanks for coming , ok maid of honor wanda and rest bridesmaids and mothers of the bride” she called over to the staff .

“ why they crying it’s obvious” Yelena rolled her eyes at nat and pepper.

“ she just needs the color of the dresses so she can head to the guys so they can't make it a suit so a swatch would be great” she add as Yelena cheered.

“ after i see you in the dress of course” the blonde winked.

“ speaking off let's see your choices please” pepper called blowing her nose and wiping her eyes.

“ would you ladies like some refreshment? We have the finest champagne” .

“ non alcoholic please” wanda and pepper called.

“ Wait why you are not drinking” she turned to her best friend.

“ maybe i have a reason too and thank god this wedding is coming soon,” Wanda winked.

“ oh my god how long” she almost knocked her down.

“ well i mean a few week but twins i could show quicker” .

“ oh my fucking god” she screamed making some of the sale reps jump .

“ hey have you got food here … what” yelena looked at them .

“ i’ll get uber eats” nat rolled her eyes . “ miss stark , have you a theme in mind” the woman asked.

“ fairytale” the woman collectively said .

“ what they said” she blushed.

“ so MJ peter tells us you got into MIT too are you excited” pepper asked trying to keep her emotions in line .

“ i mean i am but i’m nervous as hell” the young girl stood awkwardly.

“ it not so scary after a while i mean we almost crapped ourselves the first day , i think wanda puked” y/n snorted looking through the options.

“ i had bad shellfish totally unrelated” .

“ lena has a date” nat called making her niece freeze and turn to her aunt

“spill it “ she pointed to her aunt.

“ kate bishop its nothing , shut up” she rolled her eyes.

“ as in clint’s kate bishop” maria smirk.

“ she's funny and cute “ she walked away from them as they all went “oohhh” .

“ what are you school kids” she stuck her tongue out.

“ this one” she said taking the dress and as they sat waiting . it took five minutes of them trying to catch a peak until she walked out . the room when quiet a slight nervous manner she stood waiting for them to say something but the all stop still even yelena eyes watered.

“ this is it right?” she stood unsurely.

“ oh my god dude you look like a princess” mj mouth dropped open .

“ this , this is the one oh my baby” pepper cried .

“ you look .. beautiful” nat wiped her eyes.

“ our baby” yelena smushed her cheeks.

“ well that was easy” she cooed looking admiring herself in the mirror .

“ lingerie options” the sale rep held them up making her face beet red.

The judge well obviously all it took was cash for him to agree to the union not that he was surprised wasn't a secret stark had few higher ups in his pocket at any giving moment main reason man was never convicted. But the words before in the car had him more curious this woman he was marrying being some crime genius yet she looked like she wouldn’t jay walk but in the wise words “ it’s always the one you least suspect.” . why was this so surprising she was raise in this life her father one of the biggest arms dealer in the world as well as business man as they would say , an aunt of one of the most stealthiest assassins part of notorious group of women . Was it really surprising news . She looked like butter wouldn't melt and yet the fire in her usually doe eyed expression told another story. He was falling hard and it was the scariest thing he experienced. He saw it all. Hell he's been tortured and shot yet feelings for his arranged soon to be wife .

“ pepper said she picked a dress apparently she looks out of this world , Yelena meeting us at the tailors too” tony mused.

“ yeah I don't think I could of picture Yelena Belova in a dress maybe tactical gear if she could” bucky laughed.

“ word on street is Rumlows not happy , thinks it was a fix I mean not wrong but still” tony said tapping away on his phone .

“ Brock Rumlow is a dangerous bastard and that's coming from me , what were you thinking having him involved”.

“ I was thinking making it look convincing , so they would think this whole thing wasn’t a plan on getting you and my daughter together look my bad on that but hydra know not to bother we out weigh them” tony explained but tony didn’t know Brock Rumlow like Bucky did the bastard hated being told no and went on his own way maybe would hurt to keep eye on him.

“ look the guys are here lets get you all sorted then we can worry about it after ok” tony clapped.

“ So now dress is sorted what’s next on the agenda” maria asked as they walked into the many restaurants belonging to stark .

“ well i mean free evening so food and some retail therapy” pepper excitedly cheer .

“ i actually wanna go after this and get some studying done” she sighed .

“ cute but no we need to get shoes also , whole wardrobe for you since your moving into the barnes mansion” maria winked.

“ or i could take my own clothes” she rolled her eyes.

“ actually if your studying i could join you peter and ned are doing the suits and stuff” mj perked up .

“ actually mj i have it on good authority to bring you shopping too” nat smirked.

“Me .. why me” her eyes widened.

“ nats way of saying your part of the family” y/n whispered.

“ as honored as i am i do not have the funds so i can meet you later for studying” she mumbled feeling her own cheeks heat.

“ yeah cute kid but it’s on us so you nerds can’t get out of it stop trying” the red head smirked.

“ she’s scary when she wants to be” she whispered as y/n nodded in agreement.

“ your mama would be so proud of you both , proud you both want an education” the redhead mused .

“ she right i mean she was a good friend of mine , she loved you both a lot” pepper agreed.

“ she be happy you took care of us” y/n said holding the blonde hands.

“ god you are mushy for a criminal family” wanda sniffled.

“ i didn’t hear that” maria chuckled .

“ so how is director fury” nat smirked.

“ well he’s him speak off i gotta leave after here joys of being on good side” maria joked . “ yeah i’d say your middle ground” y/n snorted .

“ she’s as bad as us don’t let the badge throw you off” nat rolled her eyes .

“ well either way i’m glad you could be here today” y/n looked around the table .

“to the future mrs barnes” nat raised her glass

Taglist : @winterslove1917 @baw1066 @winters-light

thank you for reading let me know if you want to be added to taglist 🥰❤️

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