#peter parker anchor being

[ivvyela]

thinking about that theory where peter parker is the mcu's anchor being. and like. the possibilities of it. imagine learning your entire universe's anchor being, the person who pretty much controls the fate of the universe, is some guy who just doesn't exist??? not even dropped off the face of the earth, but there is no proof of this person even existing in the first place???? and maybe strange or the fantastic four or whoever feels responsible for/is tasked with finding and protecting this anchor being but that's kinda hard to do when you have Absolutely Nothing to go off of.

or alternatively, peter himself learning that the entire universe is basically relying on him staying alive, and he already has a lot on his shoulders but this??? having lost everything and everyone and now learning that the weight of the world is literally on his shoulders and fuck!!! he just wanted to be a friendly neighborhood spider-man but that's parker luck for you!!

and like. there's so many ways to take it and i haven't seen anyone considering this and guys. guys. consider it. take it and run with it or what have you. fuck it and throw doctor doom in the mix for the irondad girlies because surely that will be fun.

and i know i know the theory doesn't fully go hand in hand with the mcu cannon but. fuck the cannon. let me scream into the void about this. let me shove it in your faces and hope someone does something with it. let me have my silly where's waldo peter parker anchor being au.

[gunsandspaceships]

Anchor Beings

[criibibi]

Web Bound

Synopsis: After losing so much, Spider-woman learns to just keep moving. Only for her to end up somewhere far from home. Her first agenda is figuring out where she is, and how to get back. The only problem is that she ended up somewhere fictional (to her). Playing hero with Batman was not in her bingo cards this year. Hopefully she will be able to make it back home before she catches unwanted attention.

Masterlist: Next;

Prologue - A Whole New World

Who knew being in a world where heroes and villains became the part of one’s norm. Especially when one day, you get bitten by a radioactive spider and now have powers who in turn you use for the greater good. Of course not without trials and tribulations and what not, having to constantly prove oneself to others, helping grateful (and ungrateful) people, as well as making sure your civilian life doesn’t bleed into vigilantism, and keeping relationships stable. Though despite this stress inducing predicament, you made it work, for years.

You’ve gained and lost many things. You’re aunt and uncle for example. That shit hit real hard for you, left you rageful and bitter. Uncle Ben died because you let a criminal escape which in turn shot him. You wanted that murderer dead, and you got it (accidentally of course), it didn’t make the pain and loss any better. Honestly you only had yourself to blame. Aunt May became your anchor after your loss. Friends and relationships were thrown out the window. Your focus was more on your aunt and vigilantism. Then you lost aunt May.

This hit was just as bad as Uncle Ben’s death. Before you started at a high, discovering your powers, letting that ego hit sky high. That’s how you lost Ben. With May on the other hand, you lost her differently. This time you were too weak, too vulnerable, too naive, too sloppy. 

While trying to save others during an attack, she got in the crossfire. There was no coming back for you. You lost the two most important people in your life. All you had left was your mask, because with the final death of May, your civilian life died alongside her. 

Then you met Peter Parker. A cute nerd boy you saved once. How Peter came into your life is something you’re grateful for. When you saved him from an attack, he in turn started stalking you- er, your vigilant persona. And then he discovered who you were. He stuck by you through everything, and anything.

He never let your walls deter him. He slowly and painstakingly climbed those walls until you finally let him in. This cute nerd grounded you again. He patched up your wounds, took care of you when you couldn’t, he was your confidant, and eventually he became your best friend. You learned to let people in again, to trust.

Now it was no longer just Spider-woman. You had a civilian identity again. He was there for you when the going was tough. You see, Peter Parker is smart, way too smart, he had big dreams, he was definitely going places. But something about him made you stare at him just a little too long. Peter is a bright man, too bright. 

You see, Peter Parker was dealing with depression, and he (just like you) masked his feelings. You of course figured something was off about Peter, but never pushed it. You definitely regret it now. Peter’s flames were snuffed out too quickly. You also couldn't save him.

Losing Peter was the last straw. This life became unbearable. Uncle Ben, Aunt May, and even your best friend Peter Parker were all taken from you. You wonder how the darkness hasn't consumed you.

Uncle Ben taught you that with great power comes great responsibility. Aunt May taught you that your gift should save as many as you can. And Peter Parker taught you, to keep going, to just keep on moving.��

You may have lost a lot, but you gain many things. So you kept going, no longer losing yourself completely. 

Then a man named Miguel O’Hara, from Earth 928 paid you a visit. Offering you an opportunity of a lifetime. And you took it. Saving other universes from these things called ‘anomalies’. You felt like you had a purpose again, another drive to keep you moving forward. You met other wonderful spiderlings. Young ones, who needed guidance, one that you didn’t have years ago. 

So you became one for them, and in turn they taught you many things as well. These kids are bright, just like your Peter. You refuse to let the hurt- your hurt, hurt others.

Then the situation with the Spot occurred. Fighting him had proven to have been unfortunate, causing you to end up somewhere new. Somewhere far away from home. Checking your multiversal Gizmo watch for a semblance of your location only to find out it’s not turning on. Now you’re stuck, in a universe you have no knowledge of, and with a semi unresponsive watch.

“Where is this… Where am I?” you mumbled to yourself, slightly disheveled from the impact of you kissing the ground.

Standing in an unfamiliar environment, you look around to see anything that can help you, only to see gray skies, and a somewhat gloomy city. None of this rings any bells for you, no landscape to jog a memory, nothing.

You didn’t want to walk around aimlessly either, not with you still in your suit. Not until you can get a better understanding of where you are, you stick to the shadows, using rooftops to swing away. But in this polluted city, you can still hear the police sirens echo, and crime being committed causes your spider-senses to tingle. It doesn’t stop you from not helping though. 

Stopping on a roof you came across two muggers beating a poor civilian, looting him and running. They got about three steps before both were webbed up and dangling. Hopping down you helped the beaten up man get his stolen items back.

“Th-thank you.” He winced in pain.

“Think nothing of it, here,” handing the poor man his phone, you looked up at the two thugs dangling like an ornament. “I suggest getting treated. You look pretty bad. Also, make sure the men in blues get here, can’t leave these two dangling forever, ya know?” 

You watched the man limp away with his phone dialing 911 before turning your attention away. Climbing the walls you reached eye level of the thugs before yoinking their wallets and inspecting their IDs. You had half a mind to stay but then your spider sense tingle and you quickly swung back into the roof, leaving their IDs stuck to the web.

Just as you made it to the roof, flashing red and blue lights made it to the scene. A man steps out of his car, and the same hurt man you saved steps back into the alleyway, directing the policeman. 

“Here, this is where they are.”

One of them walks under the dangling men before he notices your figure. He tenses, hands on his gun as he watches your slow movements. You lower the men onto the ground carefully, watching as the policemen glance between you and the criminals. His eye catches the IDs stuck on the web before looking back up. You were gone.

Swinging away you came across a sign that stopped you almost mid swing. There in the sky of this gloomy but bright city, was a light shining its beam on the clouds. And on the clouds it had a symbol that caused your stomach to flip.

It was the batman symbol.

You were so fucked.

----------

Next ;

[slytherheign]

A WALK TO REMEMBER | tasm!peter parker

PAIRING: tasm!peter parker x reader

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

SUMMARY: you take one last walk with the love of your life.

WARNINGS: illness (unspecified), HEAVY angst, insecurities, death. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: G]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: inspired by the movie/novel with the same title, but only slightly. THIS IS A GENDER NEUTRAL FIC BTW, but if you see something that pertains to specific gender then pls reach out so i can change it. also, i’ve planned another part for this focusing on their first walk but it’s still not finished. though when that part comes out, you can either read it as a one-shot or a prequel for this. EDIT: the prequel is out! READ HERE. again, i apologize for the lack of uploads, i just got busy with university and life in general. thank you for understanding and enjoy reading! you might want to get tissues before you proceed.

DESTINATION: Angst Avenue | GO BACK TO THE STATION. CLICK HERE FOR ALL THINGS AWTR (reviews, commentary, etc. about this fic).

The scent of the hospital permeated the room, mingling with the soft whirring of medical pieces of equipment. You were lying on your hospital bed, your frail form engulfed by the sterile white sheets. Your family surrounded you, their faces etched with worry and exhaustion.

The doctor entered the room, his expression grave. You watched him closely, a flicker of hope dancing within your eyes. Perhaps there was still a chance, a new treatment or some kind of breakthrough medication.

But as the doctor spoke, his words fell like heavy stones, shattering your fragile heart and optimism. "I'm sorry," he began, his voice laced with regret. "But it seems the treatments have stopped working."

Your heart sank like an anchor in your chest. You felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving you gasping for breath. Your family's hushed whispers filled the silence, their words a blur as tears clouded your vision. "I-I don't understand," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. "What does that mean?"

Your mother's trembling hand reached out to grasp yours, her eyes brimming with tears. "It means we have to consider other options, sweetheart," she said, her voice breaking with emotion.

But you knew what those "other options" meant. It meant more pain, more uncertainty, and the terrifying prospect of saying goodbye. You turned away, burying your face in your pillow as a sob wracked your body.

The doctor spoke with your family and discussed the other options. You listened to his words, but they felt distant, as if they were coming from the end of a long tunnel. You knew what he was saying, and you could grasp the gravity of his words, but you couldn't bring yourself to fully process them.

“What do we think?” he asked, looking at your faces for an answer. 

If you were being honest, a part of you didn’t want to try anymore. You didn’t want any more pain. You were already tired—exhausted, even.

But then you remembered him.

You remembered Peter.

And you remembered how you promised him that you would do everything to survive. You promised that you would keep trying until all was well. 

After a moment of unnerving silence, you spoke. “I think we should do it,” you breathed out, looking up at your parents and your doctor. “The other options… let’s do it,” you smiled weakly.

So, that was what you did. You kept trying.

Peter lightly traced the lines on your hand as you waited for your order. Every now and then, he would look up and gaze at you lovingly. You couldn’t help but chuckle. “What are you doing?” you said, smiling.

“Admiring you,” he smiled, intertwining his hand with yours atop the table.

The smile left your face almost instantly. “Even when there’s nothing left to admire?” you stated sadly.

He immediately frowned at that. “What are you saying?”

“You know what I’m saying…”

“Y/N…”

“Peter, I’m not the same as I was. I don’t look like what I used to when you fell in love with me.”

“Stop.”

“No, Peter. I’m pale as snow. I look so sick, I’ve lost my hair. This—” you pointed at your head. “This is just a wig. My real hair is gone—the hair that I know you loved playing with and twirling the ends with your finger. I’ve lost a lot of weight—I don’t have the chubby cheeks you loved to pinch anymore. I-I’m so w-weak,” you sniffed. “Look at me, Pete—I can’t even stand on my own feet anymore. I have to be in a wheelchair.”

A tear fell on Peter’s cheek but he quickly wiped it when he noticed the waiter approaching. You immediately turned your face at the window, pretending to look at the parking lot on the other side so the poor waiter wouldn’t notice the emotional distress you were in.

Peter smiled at the waiter. “On second thought, can we take these out?” he gestured to the food. The waiter smiled in return before picking up your table number and taking the food back to pack it up for the two of you. Peter sadly looked at you as you continued to stare at the window. He heard you sniffing and he cursed himself for not knowing the right words to say at the moment. God, if he only knew how to take this pain away from you, he would do it right this instant.

He thanked the waiter, grabbing the paper bag with one hand and placing his other on your cheek to turn your face to him. He wiped the tears with his thumb before moving his hand to clasp yours. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“To your favorite place.”  

He sat on the bench beside your wheelchair before opening the takeout bag and handing your food to you. The two of you ate in peace while admiring the sight of the beach in front of you, the cool breeze that swept off the ocean instantly finding its way to your bodies.

You remembered this beach. It was where Peter asked you to be his, and it was where you answered him “yes”. You remembered how it was snowing then, and how both of you thought it was weird, but beautiful nonetheless.

Moments after you finished eating and Peter threw the trash in a garbage can that was nearby, he cleaned his hands with an alcohol spray. He then went back to you, knelt down, and held your hand with both of his. “I have an idea.”

“A good one or a bad one?”

“A good one. A very good one.”

There was a glint of excitement in his eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh lightly at him.

“Well then, count me in,” you smiled.

He smirked before standing up and starting to carry you bridal style. 

“Peter—Pete! What are you doing?!”

“Just trust me, okay?”

You looked at him, searching his eye for some kind of clue to what he was planning on doing. Unfortunately, you couldn’t find a clue or anything. “Okay,” you forfeited.

He noticed the slight pout you made and he rolled his eyes jokingly. “You really know how to get me, huh?” he chuckled. “Fine, I’ll tell you what we’re doing,” he said, starting to move his feet towards the beach. “You and I, my love, are going for a walk.”

Peter carried you as he gently walked along the sandy shore, his footsteps leaving imprints that would soon be washed away by the tide. You stared up at him, memorizing his features just like you did every time you would look at him. His hair moved smoothly with the flow of the breeze, his mouth looking perfect as he talked about something you weren’t really paying attention to because you were busy paying attention to his face. And then you wondered how a man as beautiful as him loved you. You smiled, thinking you must’ve done something really good in your life for you to have him.

Seagulls soared overhead, their cries blending with the gentle rustle of the palm trees lining the beach. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the air, a poignant backdrop to the bittersweet moment you were having.

Right. This was a bittersweet moment. There was something you haven’t told him yet.

“Pete, can we sit for a moment?” he frowned but did what you asked for nonetheless. He set you down gently on the sand, sitting beside you right after. 

You sat in companionable silence, the only sounds you were focusing on now were the sounds of Peter’s breathing and your heart’s beating. With each beat, you drew closer to the inevitable. You needed to tell him what he deserved to know.

“Pete—”

“Y/N—”

You laughed. “Okay, you go first,” you told him.

He smiled. “You were wrong,” he stated after a moment. 

“I’m confused.”

“You were wrong,” he said again. “You were wrong when you said that there is nothing left to admire about you. You were wrong because there is always something to admire about you. When I look at you, I question myself if you’re even real, because surely a person as perfect as you could not exist. The way you smile at the smallest compliments, the way you tilt your head back when you laugh at something, the way your brows knit together when you’re confused, the way your tongue sticks out sometimes when you’re concentrating—everything about you, big and small, I admire them. And I love them.”

“Surely, there are some imperfections in me,” you said.

“Yes, of course, we all have them. But those imperfections are what makes you perfect.”

“But I don’t look the same as I was before—”

“And I don’t care. Y/N, you are perfect in my eyes. Listen to me, I love you. I don’t care if you lost all your hair, or if you lose your teeth, or if you lose everything you have—I don’t care what else you lose as long as I don’t lose you.”

Oh.

As long as he didn’t lose me.

Your heart should’ve leaped with joy when you heard those words. But instead, it shattered like a plate of glass getting thrown into a wall. You hated this feeling. And you hated the feeling you would soon make Peter feel.

“Peter…” you called his name. “Pete—I love you,” you sniffed. “I love you,” you repeated. “You know that, right?”

“Of course,” he nodded, a tear escaping his eyes.

“And because I love you so much… I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“They didn’t work,” you cried.

“What didn’t work? I don’t understand.”

“When my treatments stopped working, my family and I decided to try the other options. Those other options,” your voice broke. “Those options didn’t work either, Peter…”

“W-What does that mean?”

“That means that I’m dying, Peter. And there’s nothing left to stop it.”

“No.”

You held both of his hands when you noticed them shaking.

“It’s inevitable,” you explained, looking at his hands instead of focusing on his face. You couldn’t look at him while he was crying. You couldn't do it. Your heart wouldn’t be able to bear it.

“No no no no no.”

“I love you, Peter.” 

“Y-you can’t—no. Maybe there’s still a chanc—”

You shook your head, lips trembling as you kissed his hands. “I love you.”

“What about our dreams, the future we would have? The family we would make? Y/N…”

“Peter, it’s getting cold,” you whispered. “We should go back.”

“But—please, Y/N. Y-You just can’t…”

“Peter, it’s getting really cold…”

“You can’t just leave me, I don’t think I can live without you. I already lost a lot of people—”

“I love you, Peter,” you repeated.

“I–I can’t lose you too…”

And in one frail movement, everything turned black.

As soon as you opened your eyes, the darkness from your eyelids was changed into the blinding white of the hospital room. To your left were machines that connected to your body, the only reason why you were still breathing. To your right was Peter, sound asleep on his chair while he held your hand in his.

If you were back in here, then that would mean one thing… you didn’t have much time left.

Your face was pale and the once vibrant eyes you had were now dimmed by the weight of your illness. Despite the pain that was evident in your features, there was a peacefulness in your expression. You had come to terms with your fate. 

You could feel it. Death. It wasn’t just at your doorstep, it was already beside you, just waiting for the right moment to touch you and consume you. You supposed you should be thankful, for the heavens did not take you yet.

If it would take you within this week, then so be it. But you hoped it would at least be merciful.

If it would take you today, then so be it. But you hoped it would spare you a chance for one more wish. 

One last wish.

To give you time. 

Not more time to live, but just enough.

Just enough time to say goodbye.

“Peter?” you said, squeezing his hand with all the strength you had left.

He woke up, eyes widening when he realized you were awake.

“You’re awake,” he smiled, you swore you saw his eyes tearing up at the sight of you.

Your features were drawn with pain and fatigue and your body was weakened by the relentless progression of your illness. But despite your frailty, there was a quiet strength in your eyes, a determination to make the most of the time you had left.

“I don’t think I have much time left,” you admitted.

Tears welled up in Peter's eyes as he stood up to lean in and kiss your forehead, his heart breaking at the thought of losing you. He sat back down again, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of love and sorrow. He longed to take away your pain, to make you whole again, but he knew that was beyond his power.

"I'm sorry, Peter," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I wish things could have been different."

He squeezed your hand gently, his heart breaking at the sadness in your voice. "Don't apologize" he replied, his voice filled with tenderness. "You have nothing to be sorry for. We've shared so much love and memories together. Your time may be shorter than what we’ve hoped for, but I’m very lucky and glad that you decided to spend most of it with me."

A small smile played at the corners of your lips and you moved your hand to caress his cheek. "I love you, Peter," you whispered, voice trembling with emotion.

"I love you too, Y/N," Peter replied, his voice thick with tears. "More than anything in this world."

“My parents?” you asked.

“They’re outside.”

“Can you please call them for me?”

“Of course,” he said, standing up to fetch your parents. He stayed outside the room to give you and your family some privacy.

“Oh, sweetheart,” your mother immediately ran up to you, stroking both of your cheeks gently with her hands. Your father stood behind her, you could tell by their faces that they’d been crying.

God, you hated seeing them like this.

“Mom, Dad,” you whispered.

“We’re here,” your mother responded, wiping your tears with her thumbs. “We’re right here.”

Your father reached out to hold your hand. “We’re always here.”

“I don’t know w-what to say… I can’t think of words that are nearly enough to express how grateful I am to each of you,” you stated. “Thank you for everything you have done and given me since I was a child. Thank you for reading me bedtime stories when I was little, for bringing me to school and then picking me up when it was done, for cooking my favorite meals, for hugging me when I was sad, for cleaning up my wounds whenever I injured myself while playing, for being there for me through my first period, first heartbreak—I am who I am because of you.”

You glanced at your dad only to see him crying, his grip on your hand getting tighter as if trying to see if the tighter he held you the longer you would stay with them. You never saw him cry like this before.

“We love you so much,” he whispered.

“We’re so proud of you,” your mother added.

Your father agreed, nodding. “You’re the strongest person I know. You’re even stronger than me,” he chuckled sadly.

“I love you both so much,” you cried. “I don’t want to leave, but the world has other plans for me… thank you for being the best parents I could ever ask for.”

And there it was.

You could feel death’s hand slowly reach for you. You closed your eyes, it was getting hard to breathe. 

“C-Can you please call Peter?” you breathed out.

With all your might, you opened your eyes again. Peter was now beside you, holding your right hand while both your parents held your left. You stayed like that for a moment, clinging to each other as if you could defy fate itself. But you all knew that you couldn’t.

Your breaths came shallow and labored, each one a struggle against the weight of your failing body. You closed your eyes, trying to block out the pain that pulsed through you with every heartbeat. But despite your efforts, you couldn't escape the truth that loomed over you like a dark cloud.

You could see and hear them crying, the grips they had on your hands getting tighter and tighter and tighter… afraid that if they held you loosely then you would slip away sooner.

But that wasn’t how it worked. A tight grip would not save you. There was nothing they could do to change the inevitable.

As the seconds stretched into minutes, your thoughts began to wander, drifting through memories of happier times. You thought of your childhood, filled with laughter and innocence, and of the love you had shared with your family, with your friends, and with Peter.

The memories faded as soon as they came. And then you felt death’s touch linger on your skin, its distance becoming closer to you than you could ever imagine. Like a distant echo growing louder with each passing moment, the realization dawned on you that your time was running out. You tearfully looked around the room, taking in the faces of your loved ones, each one bearing pain and sorrow.

Your strength continued to wane, your body growing weaker with each second. And as you lay there, surrounded by the ones you loved, you found a sense of peace in knowing that you weren't alone.

With a final breath, you closed your eyes. You welcomed death’s touch with a smile, surrendering to the darkness that beckoned you. And as your family and Peter wept beside you, you drifted away, hoping to have left behind a legacy of love and memories that would live on long after you were gone.

7 MONTHS LATER.

Taking a walk along the beach never felt the same anymore. 

Peter concluded that without you beside him, it wasn’t as fun as it used to be. The only fun thing for him, he guessed, was the fact that with each step he walked along the sandy shore, the memories with you played in his head and he would smile as he recounted them. Sometimes, he could even feel your presence somehow.

He ditched his shoes and played with the sand with his feet. It only took him a few minutes before he decided to wear his shoes again and leave the beach.

The next place he decided to visit was the cemetery. He stood across your grave, still not believing that 7 months had passed since you took your final breath. There was not a day that passed when he didn’t miss your presence or longed for your touch. He sat on the grass in front of your tombstone.

“You know…” he started speaking. “Walking along the beach used to be my favorite. After you died and I started doing it again, I wondered why I didn’t like doing it as much as I did before. But now I know why… I realized that it only became my favorite because I was doing it with you.”

He played with the grass with his hands, picking some of them as he tried to hold back his tears. “God, Y/N,  it’s been 7 months and it still hurts the same… I miss you so so much. I miss our walks, our dates—I miss everything about you,” he cried.

“I want to love walking along the beach again, but I know I only loved it in the first place because I was with you,” he continued. “To be honest, I don’t think I’ll do those walks again, at least not now… I don’t know… it’s just, without you, I can’t—”

Something just crawled and bit his hand. “Shit,” he swatted the spider, before facing your grave again.

“Anyway, I just want you to know that I will forever treasure those walks that I did with you,” he smiled weakly but genuinely, wiping his tears. “I will never forget them.” 

Especially that last one.

That last walk.

That was a walk to remember.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx @checo2011

TASM!PETER PARKER TAGLIST: @mymilkducts @i-am-woman-strong @lauraneedstochill @jeanettexkillian @ms-mandalore @enaraism @alessandralol @sad-darksoul @sincericida @mentallystablepotato @mich0731 @logolepsic-insomniac @k0miiki @dreamsarecloserwithyou @jumilzzz @primroseparker @preciousbabypeter @myheartonthemove @rebecca-johnson-28 @silkholland @ellievickstar @okkulta @geekygamerchick @starqwerty20 @the-quiet-observer @softiepeterpan @willowhaired @sflame15-blog @pompeygirl89 @remuslupinsdocs

[cornyonmains]

I really think we're seeing a very clear path laid out for how Deadpool is going to be integrated into the MCU via Deadpool and Wolverine, and here's why.

If you subscribe to the theory that Peter Parker is the anchor being, then it's important to recognize that Peter is completely adrift, without family, friends, or guidance, trying to survive as a teenage renter in NYC. He's going to be isolated and struggling right as Doom, who's likely to be a Tony Stark variant, enters the scene. The emotional conflict writes itself.

I could see the TVA setting Wade and Logan in Spider-Man's path. Bizarrely enough, Wade would likely have a somewhat positive impact on Peter, because Deadpool, unlike any other adult character in the MCU, respects the absolute fuck out of Spider-Man. This would be something Peter really needs to hear at a time when he thinks his moral code took away everyone he loved.

Logan, he's more of a wildcard for me, but he's likely the key to getting mutants into the sacred timeline. I have this tinfoil hat theory introducing Logan and Spider-Man might be important, because Spider-Man might end up coming to him later on down the road if he starts mutating, which could compel Wade to get him into the timeline with mutants for help from Professor X. Also, I don't think the writers would want to miss a chance to introduce Logan to another character whose mouth runs as much as Wade. Comedy gold.

If Loki wanted to merge the timelines, an anchor being, a mutant, and a man who was enlightened with such knowledges of his universe it drove him to homicidal dimension hopping madness would definitely be one way of doing it. The ingredients are there, but R-Rated properties are uncharted territory in the MCU. If Disney was doing well right now, I wouldn't even consider this a possibility, but they're getting desperate, and that motivates change.

Guess we'll see. All I know is I am not paying top dollar to go see a PG-13 movie at almost 40 years old. The Ren Fair runs 2 months in my state every summer. You want me in a movie theatre instead, then I demand sin.

[rodolfoparras]

Finish line

Peter B. Parker x Top Male Reader

Synopsis: in which Peter learns that a little bit of encouragement goes a long way

Content tags: 18+, MINORS DNI, riding

Peter’s perched on your lap, limbs aching as he moves his hips at an erratic pace and with a vice-like grip on his cock as he desperately tries to reach his climax. Despite his efforts, he can’t seem to make himself finish, having long become desensitized to his own touch, with every nerve in his body begging him to stop moving.

“Peter” you say trying to get his attention but he doesn’t seem to hear as he persistently keeps on moving his hips.

“Peter” you try again and that catches his attention. Your one hand anchors itself to his hip, the other finds its way to his cheek, tone ever so soft as you say to him “slow down for me?”

He almost protests, still moving at an erratic pace but eventually slows down and slumps into your embrace “Fuck I can’t - I can’t cum- not like this- please can you- “ he mutters into your shoulder, clearly exhausted and exasperated with his failing efforts.

“Hey hey hey, easy there” you say, slightly pushing at his chest to get a better look at his face. “You wanted this, remember?” Your words lack any bite, only serving as a reminder of what he wanted earlier that night.

“yes but-“ he says, eyes wide and tone urgent as he grabs ahold of your shoulders.

You shake your head as you brush some hair away from his forehead.

“You can do this without my help, love. I know you can” you say with a small smile on your face before your hand drops back to his hip and you gently adjust yourself on top of the sheets.“Now go slow for me, yeah?”

Peter takes a shaky breath and nods his head as he slowly start rolling his hips again.

“Ah- ah fuck” Peter groans out as resumes his movements.

“Good? You ask as you tighten your hold on his hips, trying to suppress the urge to buck up into him.

“Yeah” he says through labored breathes, working himself up your cock only to push himself back down again“just - ngh- just don’t think I can come like this”

“You can and you will, keep going” you say through gritted teeth, blunt nails sinking into the supple skin of his hips.

He hisses at that, body wincing at your rough touch but does as you say.

His body is slick with sweat, thighs quivering and hair sticking in all different directions and his moves become much more pronounced as he picks up his pace.

“That’s it” you grunt out as your hand caresses his waist “Doing so well for me, Peter”

“Yeah? I’m being good?” Peter mewls, back arching up as he gets the angle just right.

“So so good baby” you praise, surpressing your own moans of pleasure as he continues moving at a steady pace.

He preens at your praise as his hands adjust their position on your shoulders.

“Want to be good- want to be good for you” he blabbers, eyes squeezing shut as he continues to roll his hips.

Peter’s cock is flushed an angry red, and it weeps as it continually slaps continuously against his soft abdomen. Just as he’s about to wrap a hand around it to give it some relief you grab ahold of his wrist.

“Not yet alright?” you say as you intertwine your hand with his and bring it to your lips.

“Alright, alright, okay” He says under a shaky breath as he lowers his hand back again, adjusting it slightly for better leverage.

What started as a steady pace turns into a frenzied mess and the sound of skin slapping together mingles with the sound of his whimpers.

“Just like that” you praise, sounding short of breath as your hand caresses his stomach before sneaking up to his chest, rolling his nipple between your thumb and index finger.

“Oh fuck oh fuck” He cries out, body shuddering at your touch.

“Now touch yourself, pretty“ Peter nods at that, more than eager to fulfill your request as he takes his dick into his hand and starts stroking himself.

You can tell he’s close with the way his chest is rising and falling at a rapid pace, thighs jiggling as his movements become much more erratic and precum leaking all over his fist as he keeps on stroking himself.

“I think- I think-“ he stutters out, eyes squeezing shut and head tipping back.

“That’s it. You can do this without my help love, I know you can” you say under a shaky breath and just as you say that you hear him cry out before his head falls onto your shoulder and ropes of cum spurt all over your abandonment.

Despite the noticeable exhaustion on his body and face he readjusts himself and keeps on moving his hips.

“Please please - need you -need you to cum as well” he says through labored breaths.

“You gonna make me come pretty hm?” You say with a small smile on your face, feeling heat coiling in your groin.

“Yes yes yes” he says, eyes half lidded and mouth agape.

Just the sight of that accompanied with his pleading tone, is all it takes for you to start unraveling, shouting his name and spilling deep inside him.

No words are exchanged as you take a minute to catch your breath, but when you do speak the first thing you say is “told you that you could do it”

[alvfr]

you asked for it! im forcing you!

how about a scenario on that particular AU you have cooking around? between nightwing and a spiderperson that is marooned in the black and white gotham city

we love to see it

posting this like you haven't already read all of it >.< a/n: the funniest jokes are princess-marida's and she is a blessed saint that endures my long ramblings about wips, including this one. i know it says a scenario, but this turned into a longer project (shocker) so here's the first part of chapter 1 (eventual) paring: dick grayson/reader rating: m (swearing)/sfw cw: spider-woman!reader who never stops talking, no use of y/n, superhero violence summary: for years, you have been the one and only Spider-Woman of your world. However, after being recruited to the multiversal Spider-Society, you learn that there's a version of you in every other universe too.At least that's what you thought until something goes wrong and you end up in a world with plenty of superheroes, but no Spider-Man. You're stranded, alone and glitching. You need to find this world's Spider-Man and restore your link to the Spider-Verse before you disintegrate completely - easier said than done with both a local detective and a hot vigilante on your tail.

Out of the Spider-Verse (and into Gotham)

All right, guys. Let’s start at the beginning one last time. 

Your name is definitely not Peter Parker, but you were bitten by a radioactive spider, and for the last few years, you’ve been the one and only Spider-Woman. At least, you thought you were until another Spider-Woman showed up to recruit you to the multiversal Spider-Society and you realized you were one of many, many, many Spider-things from all kinds of universes. It was a sweet gig, getting you out and about some, meeting new people, doing team-ups and group work, and your leader was a decent enough guy. A little intense. Borderline scary. Easy on the eyes though. Really easy on the eyes.

And one day, you’re hanging out at the headquarters minding your own business, totally not gossipping about boss-man, when the order comes to capture one of your fellow Spider-Men. Next thing you know, you’re caught up in the whirlwind of Spider-Beings chasing after someone called Miles Morales, and somehow, in the chaos, you slip.

A fluke, really. You never slip. You’re Spider-Woman! You literally stick to walls and ceilings, and somehow, you lost your footing and took a tumble into darkness. 

Real darkness. Where bright flashing lights and psychedelic colors had accompanied you all the other times you hopped through dimensions, this time, you fell into a black pit of nothing. Reflexes had you shooting out webs, desperate to get an anchor point. They disappeared into the void with an embarrassing swish, and you did not even have time to scream before you smacked into something undeniably solid.

Concrete, probably, based on the cloud of debris and dust that rained over you as your body dug several feet into it, knocking every cubic inch of air from your lungs with an oof. Yup, you determined as you lifted your now gray arms to study them. Definitely concrete. You dropped your head back into the rubble and made a face under your mask. Concrete dust was a real bitch to get out of the suit, and you would be forced to cosplay as whitewashed Noir Spider-Man until you could get it dry-cleaned. 

Read more on AO3

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

i'll always be here for you

pair: tom!Peter Parker x reader summery: y/n(she/her) has a panic attack because she was attacked by a villan, but spider-man saved her and brought her home and after spider man left, peter arrived like 2 minutes later and comforted her

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The adrenaline was still pumping through your veins as you stumbled into your apartment, your hands trembling uncontrollably. You barely registered the sound of your front door clicking shut behind you. The events of the last half hour were a blur—an ordinary evening walk home had turned into a nightmare when you were suddenly cornered by a villain who seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

The villain had been terrifying, radiating a dark energy that froze your blood. You had been utterly helpless, paralyzed by fear. But then, just as the panic threatened to overwhelm you, Spider-Man had appeared, swinging in with the kind of precise, effortless heroism that only he could pull off. The battle between Spider-Man and the villain had been intense, but brief, and Spider-Man had ultimately subdued the threat before swiftly escorting you home.

Now, the weight of everything that had happened finally crashed down on you. Alone in your apartment, the reality of how close you'd come to being seriously hurt—or worse—hit you like a tidal wave. Your chest tightened, your breathing became shallow and ragged, and tears welled up in your eyes. You sank to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as a full-blown panic attack took hold.

The air around you felt thick, almost suffocating. It was hard to draw a breath, and your thoughts spiraled out of control. The memory of the villain's menacing grin, the fear, the helplessness—it all replayed in your mind in an endless loop. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on anything else, anything at all that could distract you from the terror gripping your heart. But nothing worked. You felt so small, so vulnerable, and so utterly alone.

Suddenly, there was a knock at your door—three quick, urgent taps. You barely had the strength to lift your head, but somehow, you managed to stand and shuffle toward the door, your legs feeling like jelly. You hesitated for a second before opening it, fearing the worst, but when the door swung open, Peter Parker stood there, looking breathless and worried.

"Y/N!" Peter gasped, stepping inside before you could fully process his presence. He gently took hold of your arms, his warm hands a grounding force against your cold skin. "Are you okay? I— I heard something happened.

"You blinked up at him, confused and still trembling. How did Peter get here so fast? How did he even know? You hadn’t told anyone about the attack, but the questions swirling in your mind were drowned out by the sheer relief of seeing him.

Peter’s eyes softened as he took in your disheveled state, and without another word, he pulled you into a tight embrace. The familiar scent of him, the comforting feel of his arms wrapped around you, provided an anchor you desperately needed.

"It's okay, I've got you," Peter whispered, his voice gentle and soothing, as he slowly guided you back to the couch. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding back, but his focus was entirely on you.

The comfort of his embrace made the tears you’d been holding back finally spill over. You buried your face in his chest, your body shaking as sobs wracked through you. Peter didn’t say anything, just held you tighter, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other rubbed soothing circles on your back.

“I was so scared, Peter,” you choked out between sobs. “I thought…I thought I was going to die.”

“You’re safe now,” Peter murmured, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “You’re safe. I’m right here.”

For a long while, you just cried into his chest, letting out all the fear and panic that had been building up inside you. And Peter was there with you through it all, a solid presence that you clung to like a lifeline.

Eventually, your sobs subsided, and you pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. Peter’s face was so close to yours, his expression a mix of concern and something else—something you couldn’t quite place.

“How did you know?” you finally asked, your voice small and fragile. “How did you know something happened?”

Peter stiffened slightly, but he quickly masked it with a small, reassuring smile. “I—uh, I was just nearby,” he said, not quite meeting your eyes. “I was walking around when I heard people talking about Spider-Man saving someone. I—I figured it might be you, so I ran over.”

It was a plausible explanation, but there was something about the way Peter said it, the way he was avoiding eye contact, that made you suspect there was more to the story. But you were too exhausted, too emotionally drained, to push the issue. All that mattered was that Peter was here, and that you were safe.

“Thank you,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. His skin was warm under your touch, and you could feel him relax slightly at the gesture.

“For what?” Peter asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“For being here. For making me feel safe.”

Peter’s eyes softened, and he leaned into your touch, closing the small distance between you to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. Always.”

You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest as his arms wrapped around you once more. The sound of his heartbeat, steady and strong, was the only thing you needed to hear to know that everything was going to be okay.

[reidslovely]

If Your Love is in Trouble (Part One)

"If you're asking yourself, "How do you know?" Then that's your answer" Lana Del Rey, Margaret

Playlist here.

Authors Note: Yes, I am starting another series. Maybe I'll actually finish this one. This was born after playing Spider-Man 2, and I have no explanation for it, I just really wanted an excuse to write this. I know many people aren't into love triangles and that's cool. I still hope you guys read and enjoy because it will predominantly be Peter/Reader.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader x Harry Osborn

Content Warning: Slight mentions of suicidal ideation, couple swear words, pretty tame for the most part right now. Few mentions of a old hair color reader had.

Please reblog, and throw a comment in if you'd like!

“I can’t believe he’s really gone.” Peter muttered as he sat crisscrossed on the pillows scattered on his bedroom floor turning his best friend's game boy over in his hands. (Y/N) frowned at her friend, her cheeks stained red and swollen from crying, the insides of her cheeks sore from being bitten. 

“I know..it’s not fair.”

 She rested her head on Peter’s shoulder, her arms wrapping around his torso. 

“Norman is fucking evil.” Peter mumbled out, a glance at his open door making sure May didn’t hear the swear fall from his lips. “..and a terrible father, he never deserved to have Harry. But that didn’t mean he had to ship him off. He could have lived here, May and Ben would have taken him in. That’s like their whole thing!” 

(Y/N) listened, she knew the hurt Peter was feeling, but she also knew he knew how Harry was feeling. The three of them had been inseparable since they were six, did everything together and went everywhere. But now Harry has gone to some fancy boarding school in the English countryside, not knowing when they’d ever see him again. 

“We still have each other.” 

Peter laughed sadly, his hand engulfing hers a childlike smile on his face the blue color on his braces catching her eye. “Yeah. And I’m not letting you go anywhere.” Peter wrapped his arm around her neck, pulling her down ruffling her hair. (Y/N) screamed out, thrashing around laughing, trying to fight Peter off. 

“Okay you two, okay. Dinner is ready c’mon.” Ben says from Peter’s doorway looking at the middle schoolers. Peter let go of the girl, holding his hand out for her to take helping her up. Ben stood back as the two bursted out of the door, racing one another down the stairs into the warmth of the kitchen. The smell of May’s cooking filling the homey kitchen, a news anchor talking excitedly on the small TV on the counter. 

…

Though the kitchen hadn’t changed in those seven years it was no longer warm, it no longer felt like a second home. The same new anchor talked on the TV, his voice no longer excited but now aged and filled with professionalism. (Y/N) looked around the once familiar area, now feeling like a vampire who’d crossed the threshold uninvited. But she had been invited, May stood in front of her two mismatching coffee cups in hand. 

“Take off your coat for a while.” 

She coaxed, motioning at the spring jacket on her shoulders. (Y/N) smiled at May’s motherly nature, she hadn’t changed a bit since the last time she’d seen her. Her head had a few more grays on it, and she was wearing her reading glasses more but other than physical she was the same old May. 

“I’m so glad I caught you walking, I was gonna call and have these sent to you but..I’ve been wanting to see you anyways.” 

“I know May, I’ve missed you. Sorry, I just..I've been..so busy.” 

May squinted her eyes, her crows feet becoming prominent. It was never an easy task to lie to May, she saw through everything. 

“I bet.” But, she always let the lie continue. May sat at the bar stool, the small photo book in hand as she opened it. (Y/N) settled next to her drinking out of the homemade Spider-Man cup, looking at the first set of photos. Three kids smiled in front of a carousel of horses, two boys and a girl standing in the middle. (Y/N) smiled, her mind flashing to the blonde boy in the photo, thinking about the last time they’d talk. Her eyes followed their muscle memory and looked at the scrawny brunette boy in the photo, his head resting on hers as he held up a peace sign. 

“Ben and I basically had to drag you three out of that park when that silly little carousel popped up. It was your favorite part.”

“We used to spend hours there. I used to steal money out of my dad’s wallet to get us rides for the whole week.” 

May laughed, nodding her head. (Y/N) smiled at the memory of her thumb rubbing over the slightly aged photo, it felt like her heart shook with grief for what they once were. 

“Now this..this is my favorite.” 

May held up a photo of two ghosts. 

One clad in an awkward fitting sports coat and slacks, the other in a deep blue dress and poorly dyed red hair. In Peter’s scratchy handwriting ‘Junior year winter formal’ was written on the back. (Y/N) swallowed harshly, but smiled at the image. 

“You two looked so cute. Your red hair really was something.”

“Mhm, I forgot the last time you saw me I was still a redhead!” (Y/N) hummed softly, sliding the photo back into its slot in the photo album. May hummed, putting her hand against her cheek. 

“When was the last time?” 

“It was ..I dunno, senior year we just got on christmas break, I had come by because I hadn’t heard from Peter in a couple weeks and I was worried. He’d gone upstate with Gwen’s family, and you gave me that knitted scarf and beanie set.” 

“Oh that’s right!” May smiled, grabbing onto (Y/N)’s forearm. “Have you two talked at all?”

(Y/N) laughed awkwardly, her hand coming up to push her hair out of her face. She shook her head rapidly. “No, I'm pretty much on the outskirts of his life now. I think we both go out of the way to avoid one another.” 

May shook her head, her nephew's behavior never failing to amaze her. “Whatever happened, have you two tried to fix it?”

“I dunno May, we just…grew apart. He had Gwen, photography and science club…and his other extra activities.” (Y/N) shrugged her shoulders, her hand patting May’s that rested on her forearm. “We grew up I guess.” 

May looked at her and it felt like she saw right through her, saw her heart and how Peter had smashed it into a million pieces. (Y/N) pulled her arm gently from May grabbing the coffee cup and taking a long sip. “Oh my god! Is this you and Ben?” It was a quick and easy subject change that May would allow. 

The front door opened and May turned her head. “Peter, why don’t you come into the kitchen? I have something I want to show you. I finally pulled those photos down from the attic!” 

(Y/N) looked around the kitchen like an animal being caged in, she looked for a quick escape but she could never move that quietly. So she settled with tucking her face away behind May’s figure and maybe if she willed enough she’d turn invisible. 

Peter's footsteps turned into a quick jog throughout the house. “May why would you..I told you I’d..” Suddenly all sound stopped. Time felt like it’d stopped with it. 

Peter had grown a couple inches since the last time they’d seen one another, she thought he’d looked taller in his birthday post on instagram but maybe she’d just started forgetting what he looked like. He’d finally cut his hair, and started dressing in more fitting clothes. He had become a full adult in the time they’d been apart, it felt like just yesterday they were eighteen year olds hanging out at the skatepark.  

“Hey.” He spoke softly, shock in his voice. 

“I caught her walking home- thought she’d like a trip down memory lane.” 

“Hey Pete.” (Y/N) spoke finally, her eyes following him as he walked to the fridge grabbing out the creamer and making his own cup of coffee. May had opened her mouth to speak before being cut off by the house phone. May grabbed (Y/N)’s shoulder as she stood. 

“I’ll be right back.” 

Silence, that was once comfortable and knowing, filled the room awkwardly. (Y/N)’s eyes locked to Peter’s back watching his movements. 

“Happy belated birthday.” 

Peter turned to look at her after the words left his mouth. She could laugh, at least he remembered one thing. 

“Yeah, yeah you too. We’re twenty, pretty odd huh?’

“Yeah..I feel like I’ve lived six times that.” 

(Y/N) nodded awkwardly, dropping her eyes from him and looking at the winter formal photo in her hands. Her phone vibrating from the counter, both of their eyes immediately looking at it. 

‘Harry - Hey, sorry we got cut short last night’

‘Harry - I’m actually grabbing a flight right now, I should be there tomorrow afternoon.’

She clicked the power button flipping it over. “How’s huh Gwen?” 

Peter nodded and leaned on the counter, his finger tapping a couple of the scattered photos. “Uh..well. Good, I think. We..broke up.” He spoke quickly, rolling his hand in a circle motion as he spoke. He looked up at her, for what felt like the first time in forever. She nodded, a frown on her lips. 

“I’m..really sorry to hear that Pete. I thought for sure you guys would..be together forever.” 

“Yeah me too..” He slumped his shoulders and shook his head. “Sometimes things just don’t work out.” 

“Tell me about it.” She laughs, it came out more bitter than she intended. Peter nodded, his lips pulling down at the notion. Maybe he knew he owed her a slew of apologies, maybe he was oblivious. She’d rather he be the latter. Clearing her throat she slipped out of the bar stool, grabbing her jacket off the back of the chair. 

“I should go. I have an assignment due at six I should get started on.” 

“Oh yeah, yeah.” Peter sniffled, his thumb rubbing against his nose. He pressed his fists into the countertop, his fingers popping as he did so. “Let me walk you home.” He offered up, rushing to get his coat from the living room. (Y/N) panicked, her mind moving at a million miles a second. Her brain refuses to process any type of response other than a small yes that she doesn’t even think he heard.

Taking the couple seconds alone she had she messaged Harry back: ‘So excited to see you! Miss your face :)’ 

“Ready?” Peter asked, he returned with a denim jacket on his shoulders, hands shoved into his pockets. (Y/N) pocketed her phone nodding at him, Peter reached around her holding the back door open for her as they stepped out into the slight chill of the spring weather. The two rounded the side of the house heading down the block. Peter fell into his previous routine, he always took the side of the sidewalk closest to the road, keeping (Y/N) on his inside. She smiled at him, dropping her gaze to her feet.

“I’ve been a terrible friend.” 

It wasn’t what she expected to fill the silence. Her mouth fell open, before closing again quickly trying to think of a response. 

“I like..totally left you hanging and I just..I’m really sorry that was so fucked up. There was just.” Peters fumbling through his words, it’s not an apology, but she’ll take it. 

“Hey Pete, it’s all good. We were kids, and hey what can you do it happened. I played a part in it too. We had a lot going on.” 

“You were always trying to excuse my bad behavior, I was a bad friend. I can admit that now, I should have admitted that two years ago.” 

(Y/N) shakes her head, a laugh falling out of her lips, her hand coming up to wave it off. 

“We were hormonal teenagers Peter, and that got in the way. I’m not mad, I missed you a lot. But maybe it was what we needed to grow.”

“I know but I should have said something. I left you on a fucking rooftop, I..” 

“I love you Peter, and I just need to know if you love me.” She screamed over the flow of the traffic below them. Sirens sounding off in the background felt like she was being laughed at by everyone. Peter’s face was numb, filled with shock as he held his mask in one hand, his bruised eyes searching her face. “I’m so confused. I don’t know what to think.”

“I don’t..I don’t know. I dunno, either.” 

He shook his head, the sound of the city around him felt like an icepick being stabbed into the back of skull. (Y/N) took a step back, wind blowing against her face whipping the dyed red hair around across her face. She turned and looked over the edge, before looking at him. Jumping from the 20th something floor felt like a better option than hearing whatever Peter had to say. 

“I just..is there a chance or is this all for..nothing? Am I holding out for nothing?” 

The sirens got louder, and Peter looked between the red head and the flashing sirens below them. 

“I’m sorry, we can talk later!” Peter swore as he slid the mask on his face, in a flash he’d thrown

himself over the side of the building a flash of red swinging off into the sky. 

The memory crawled into the forefront of her mind and for once it didn’t make her want to claw herself out of her skin. Peter’s hand had creeped out of his jacket pocket and into hers, his hand interlocking with hers. (Y/N)’s lips pulled down in a bittersweet smile, her thumb rubbing across his. For a moment she’s convinced herself nothing changed, for a moment she’s in school sneaking kisses with Peter in the darkroom of the photography club. Waiting for him by his locker ready to trade lunches for the day with silly notes written on the inside. 

“It hasn’t changed a bit.”

 Peter laughed as they reached the front stoop of her home, his hand still in hers. It was comforting, both having a sneaking feeling of home that they hadn’t felt in almost two years. However, the moment died quickly. Peter let go of her hand, stepping in front of her slightly as he looked around. (Y/N) furrowed her brow as she opened her mouth to talk, the scrapping of a chair drew her attention to the corner of the porch, a figure standing up. 

“Mhm that’s what I said. I gotta say though I don’t remember the glass in the window being pink”

The deep voice drew the friend's head towards the sound, (Y/N)’s jaw dropping as she grabbed a tense Peter’s shoulder. 

“Harry!”

They both yelled. The sandy blond started down the steps, (Y/N) took off meeting him half way engulfing him in a hug. Peter stood back in shock, looking at his lost friend as if a ghost had just crawled out of its grave in front of him. A small vibration of alert hanging in the back of his skull as the two embrace.

Taglist: @moonyslove78 @helloheyhihowdyheya @sincericida @tarzinnia @a-lumos-in-the-nox @adhdhufflepuff @messymissy @hollandweather @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @eevylynn @ateliefloresdaprimavera @someblessedmonster

[spacius]

living in the past - dr. spencer reid: 1

Who? dr spencer reid x original female character

Where Daisy's biggest secret is revealed, not only for BAU but for the whole world.

Warnings: avengers, marvel, peter parker, far from home, snap. It takes place in 2034, Spencer is 30 years old and oc is 28. 5-year snap influence so chronologically oc is born in 2001 and Spencer in 2004 but he wasn't snapped.

“I know you’re going to say the same thing for the 38th time, Morgan,” Spencer whispered as if revealing a state secret, “but it’s not just me being paranoid. I swear, there’s something suspicious about her.”

They were ready, waiting for the rest of the team to arrive so they could head to the crime scene.

“Pretty boy, whether she’s plotting some evil plan to end the world or not, I have no idea—and honestly, I’d rather not know.” Derek grinned, trying to hold back a laugh as Spencer rolled his eyes. “But you might want to tone it down. She’s gonna start thinking you’ve got a crush on her.”

Derek was enjoying this far more than he’d ever admit. While Spencer rolled his eyes so hard they nearly completed a full circle, Penelope burst into the room, her energy frantic.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, have you seen what’s in the news? You have to see it—my God, I’m going to combust, any second now!” Penelope spoke so fast that even Derek, with all his experience, could barely keep up. Spencer, for his part, blinked, trying to process the onslaught of words.

“Garcia, slow down, we can’t—”

“Spencer Walter Reid, for the love of all things cute and fluffy, open your phone and check the news now!” she demanded, practically vibrating with urgency. She looked seconds away from strangling the youngest member of the team if he didn’t move faster. “It’s breaking news, and trust me, this will back up one of your theories!”

That was all Spencer needed. He quickly pulled out his phone, while Derek raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.

A news broadcast lit up Spencer’s screen. The anchor’s voice was grave: “We come to you now with shocking revelations about 2023 attack in London. An anonymous source has provided us with this footage, reportedly from moments before Quentin Beck, aka Mysterio, died twelve years ago. A warning: Some viewers may find this footage disturbing.”

The screen cut to an altered video of the Tower Bridge battle. Spencer and Derek exchanged a glance, both raising an eyebrow before turning back to the screen. Just as they were about to speak, a man’s voice—Quentin Beck’s—filled the room.

“I managed to send the Elemental back through the dimensional rift,” Beck’s voice declared. “But I don’t think I’m going to make it off this bridge alive. Spider-Woman attacked me! She has an army of weaponized drones—Stark technology! She’s claiming she’ll be the new Iron Man, and no one else!”

A robotic voice followed, colder than the woman’s: “Are you sure you want to initiate the drone attack? There will be significant casualties.”

“Do it. Execute them all,” the feminine human voice, trembling like she was on the edge of collapsing.

The footage wasn’t as graphic as what Derek, Spencer, and Penelope were used to seeing, but it was disturbing in its implications. The video cut to J. Jonah Jameson, the notorious anchor.

“There you have it, folks: conclusive proof that Spider-Woman was responsible for the brutal murder of Mysterio, an inter-dimensional warrior who gave his life to protect our world. He will no doubt go down as the greatest hero of our time. But that’s not all—here’s the real blockbuster. Brace yourselves.”

The bullpen seemed to freeze, no one daring to breathe.

“Spider-Woman’s real identity is… Spider-Woman’s name is Gwendolyn Stacy Parker! Gwen Parker!”

On the screen, an image of Daisy appeared—Daisy, whom Spencer had been trying to convince Derek was hiding something. But this wasn’t right. The photo, though younger, was eerily similar. Too similar.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Spencer murmured, brows furrowing. “Her name is Daisy Hawke. There’s no way she’s Gwen Parker. We would know if she had any connection to a superhero.”

“Well, that’s what I thought,” Penelope said after calming down. “But then I started digging for something that could explain this madness, and suddenly, the pieces began to fit together.”

“And here we go—Reid-splaining has officially contaminated her,” Morgan quipped.

“In 2006, New York broke the record for missing children. But here’s the strangest part: 182 children went missing in a single day. Almost all of them were found together later, but there were very few details. So, I started digging deeper into the history of Dais—Gwen—whatever she calls herself now. There’s a gap in her life between 2006 and 2010. If you think about it, she’s never really talked about her childhood. So, I kept digging. And then, I dug some more. And there it was—among the 182 children kidnapped that day: Gwendolyn Stacy Parker. I believe that’s where the beginning of the false end of her life started.” She paused to catch her breath.

“None of the victims ever spoke about what happened. Since they were just kids, this whole thing could snowball into something huge.” Penelope decided to stop there; she didn’t like imagining what might have happened to someone she cared about so much.

“I’m sorry, Derek. I’m sorry, Garcia, but I have to say this once and for all—I told you so, and I’ve never enjoyed saying it more.”

“Pretty boy’s not going to let me live this down anytime soon, baby,” Derek muttered with a grin. “But hey, does Hotch, JJ, David, Emily, and you know, Daisy, know about this?”

“No idea. With Daisy being late, she certainly knows something. She’s probably in deep trouble with the life she left behind, and if the rest of the team doesn’t know, they’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“I don’t see why you’re so worried about it, Garcia.”

“You’re only saying that because you and Einstein never got along. I just—can’t imagine the pain of going through all the bad things you left behind when you were 18.”

“This about Hawke?” Hotch emerged from the shadows, his voice calm and composed. “Either way, be discreet. She’s one of our best agents, and it would be a shame to lose her. So act like she’s not a superhero.”

At that moment, the trio had confirmation that everyone knew, and they knew Daisy knew they knew, but no one would talk about it for a long time.

About 20 minutes had passed, and the team was already on the jet—everyone except Daisy, of course. Hotch had mentioned earlier that she had “encountered some personal issues and wasn’t cleared for this case.”

Out of everyone on board, Rossi was the most unsettled. He shifted in his seat, clearly itching to talk. If he didn’t get this out, it seemed like he might burst. “Hey, Emily,” he leaned over and nudged her arm subtly, “did you hear… about Daisy?” His curiosity was so obvious that it almost made her smirk.

“Dave, keep it cool,” Prentiss muttered, barely moving her lips. “I want to talk about it later, too.” Oh, Lord, Daisy's ear definitely would be hot.

Aqui está o texto adaptado para o estilo e os personagens de Criminal Minds:

“The case was solved in two weeks, and the BAU team quickly returned to Quantico. Most of them were too exhausted to think about the incident involving Daisy, but Spencer Reid didn’t fit into that majority. Being the genius he is, the details lingered in his mind throughout the case, often making it difficult for him to concentrate on his work.

Could it really be the same person? The face was undeniably similar — if not identical. The only difference was the hair color; Gwen had red hair while Daisy had brown. She must have spent a lot on hair dye.

Spencer preferred to believe they were different people. He didn’t like to admit it to himself, but at that moment, he wanted to be wrong. He hoped that all the times he had sensed something off about Daisy, that she was hiding something, were just his imagination. With his genius IQ, he would surely notice if she were, of all things, a superhero, right? Oh, when he saw her the next day, they would need to have a serious conversation.

Reviews and advice are welcomeaised voices and accusations in years.

Author's note: thank you to everyone who is reading this, this is the first time I write something like this and English is not my first language, but I had this idea stuck in my head for weeks <3 I'm sorry for the mistakes

Author's note: thank you to everyone who is reading this, this is the first time I write something like this and English is not my first language, but I had this idea stuck in my head for weeks <3 I'm sorry for the mistakes

criticism and advice are welcome

[hollandsfavbabe]

Where Do We Go Now

pairing: peter parker x stark!reader

synopsis: in which the death of y/n's father leaves her determined to bring him back and her boyfriend peter determined to save her

warnings: endgame aftermath, death, parental loss, isolation, suicide attempt (but magical?), it gets better - I promise

word count: 7.1k

masterlist

a/n: Hey guys. This is going to be a bit longer than my usual notes, but I feel like I should explain why I've been gone for so long and why this story is a lot sadder than my usual ones. My community has been riddled with tragedy recently as we've lost a lot of people to suicide this past year, some of which have been as young as middle school age. One of my friends died by suicide a couple months ago. I can't express to you guys how hard it's been trying to deal with the pain and the guilt his death has caused me and my loved ones. So many days have passed where I wish I could've been a better friend for him while he was here. It hurts more knowing that other people are hurting too. Writing this was the best way for me to cope for many reasons. I wanted to write about how I'm feeling and honor my friend in some way even if it's through a silly little fanfiction. I know I'm late, but I also wanted to honor one of my favorite characters, Tony Stark as he canonically died this past October. That being said, if you are struggling please, I implore you, talk to someone. There are so many people on this planet who would be so torn without you. My dms are always a safe space if you need anything at all <3

Also I'd like to thank Gracie Abrams for her music that I had on repeat the entire time I was writing this. I hope you like it!

“I am Iron Man.”

The words replayed in your head, over and over like a broken record with no one to turn it to a new tune. That’s exactly how you felt. So alone in your grief that even if miraculously every wish you'd ever made in the whole of your existence had been granted, it still wouldn’t be enough to make you happy again. To make you feel anything besides the constant regret and incessant grief that anchored you down as you wasted away in your bed.

It had been exactly a week since the passing of the great Tony Stark. Everyone else in the compound had mourned their coworker, riddled by a somewhat lesser version of your sadness for only a few days after his death. It’s not as if their grief had been washed away as if it never stained their cheeks with tears or weighed down their hearts with sorrow, but it eased much quicker than yours and before long they could continue their duties. Everything was so much harder for you because Tony hadn’t just been a coworker. He was your father.

You relieved every memory you had of him like bittersweet torture. You remembered when he held you as a little girl, wiping up a bloodied knee. When he discovered you had powers and helped you control them. Later on when he banned you from joining in on the Avenger’s Civil War and afterwards when he thanked you for sneaking in to help anyway. You could almost feel his comforting embrace as if it was only yesterday that he was assuring you before a failed battle against the mad Titan Thanos, the same one that left you dusted and missing your father’s last five years on Earth. And finally, of course, you remember his last moments all too well. It played out before you like the tragic ending of a stage play. 

“Let me do it,” you shouted over the sound of war cries and carnage that surrounded you on the packed battlefield. “I can take it!”

You were almost certain that your power, your immeasurable magic, could handle the debilitating strength of the Infinity Stones making you the most reasonable choice for snapping Thanos and his army out of existence, but your father refused to risk losing his eldest.

“No,” he breathed, the metal plate shielding his chest rising and falling from the heat of the action. There was only one way to succeed, only one way to put a stop to the destruction of the universe. It had to be him. “I won’t risk losing you, not while you’re still so young. You have so much life ahead of you.”

“Not without you!” you cried, a tear streaming from your eye.

There wasn’t much time for your conversation as the world was moments away from being wiped of its human history, but despite the odds your father pulled you into a tight hug, as if he knew it would be the last. You both did.

“You are the strongest person I’ve ever known and I’m so proud of what you’ve become already.” he smiled when you finally pulled apart.

“I need you dad,” you sobbed, still reluctant to let him leave you. With the threat of his death, suddenly Thanos’ defeat didn’t matter anymore. Not nearly as much as having your father by your side. “I’m not ready.”

Your dad looked down on you with the saddest of smiles, but if any part of him was upset about his decision, he made no other hint toward it. He just held you close for as long as possible and comforted you in the way that you could always count on him for. In the way, it hit you, that you could never count on him for again. But yet, in the face of death, he cradled you close and spoke in his signature fatherly tone: assertive yet on the edge of softness.

“No one’s ever ready -,” he answered truthfully. “- but I know you can handle it. You always do.”

You looked up at him as he finally pulled away and headed towards the purple giant, but not before turning to you for one final declaration.

“I love you, junior, to the edge and back again.”

And then he was gone. You never got the chance to say it back.

Yours was the last name he uttered before his heart stopped beating and the light on his suit went out. By then Pepper had already said her goodbyes and you both were huddled close to his body, weeping as the other Avengers knelt around you in honor of your father. Peter was hunched behind you, one hand on your shoulder while the other worked to wipe away his own tears. Oh Peter, you had your father to thank for him.

It was Tony who was credited with setting you up with your long term boyfriend, Peter Parker, even if it was a complete accident. You two had gotten acquainted on a fateful plane ride to Germany and eventually ended up together after many failed attempts at confessing your feelings. There was something about him that had you smitten with him from your first encounter, your liking only strengthened when you learned that your father approved. He’d been with you through thick and thin and even now, Peter was the only person who could even remotely share your pain besides Pepper. Tony was like his father too.

He’d taken care of you ever since the incident. Brought you food and water, helped you dress in your black attire for the funeral, laid with you in your bed each night to calm you whenever you awoke in a nightmarish terror. He showed his love for you prevailing over his grief in the most selfless of ways and yet all you had managed to do since you father’s funeral was stand to use the restroom every once in a while. It piled on more weight that your poor soul could already take. You were nothing, but a miserable burden now.

The door to your room opened with squealing hinges as Peter stepped in, returning from school where he had spent the morning reuniting with your shared friends and finding out when the official return date was. You were supposed to join him, but instead you hadn’t moved an inch since he left. It wasn’t as if you wanted to waste the entire day in your lonely sheets again. You yearned for everything to go back to how it was; when Peter was happy and you could share it with him. When your father used to smile upon the two teens he didn’t mean to bring together. When your father was alive.

“Hey,” he said, softly as if not to startle you from your endless torturous pondering. He set something down on your dresser, a small stack of papers he must have gathered from the school, and removed his fall coat before sauntering over to you. The bed creaked and shifted under his weight as he took a seat next to you. “Good news, we don’t have to go back until the next semester so we get a break until January. Ned was asking about you. He wants to know how you’re doing.”

You turned your head to look at him, your eyes red-rimmed from all of your crying and your lips cracked and dry.

“What did you tell him?” you croaked, your voice hoarse from under use. There was little to talk about and no one else to talk to whenever Peter wasn’t around. Pepper had visited you once, but with Morgan to look after, she couldn’t spare much time for her late husband’s grieving daughter. You’d seen Happy a couple times as well, but he needed his own time to recover and reflect on his past time with his best friend.

Peter was gentle as he tucked some of the hair strands snot cemented to your jaw behind your ear and cupped your cheek in his palm. He was cold from the autumn chill outside, but his hand ignited the same soothing heat that his touch always brought forth.

“I said you were recovering,” he answered truthfully. “And that it’s different for everyone. And no matter how long it takes, I’m here for you every step of the way.”

The ghost of a smile graced your lips and had it not felt like it stopped beating after losing your father, your heart may have fluttered in its cavity in your chest.

“Thanks Peter,” you curled closer to him in the most sincere of ways. “But I’m afraid it’s going to be a while before I can get up to see Ned again. Give him my best.”

“Take your time. I’m sure he understands.” Peter assured before pulling off his flannel and laying down beside you to wrap you in his arms, allowing you to tuck your face in his chest. As unhappy as you were, all the swirling emotions of suffering were always suppressed by the sound of Peter’s heart and the feel of his body around yours. You stayed like that for a while, holding each other before Peter broke the silence as it neared time for your midday meal.

“I think you should come with me today,” Peter suggested, rising to run his daily lunch retrieval before running a loving hand through your hair. You couldn’t understand how he hadn’t gotten sick of you yet. You hadn’t been able to wash in over a week. “It’s not good for you to stay here all day long. You need to start moving.”

His voice was full of worry, though he wasn’t overbearing. He wanted the best for you, it’s all he ever wanted really.

“I don’t know Peter, I don’t think I can.” you sighed as tears started to fill your eyes again. How could anyone stand to be around you when you were being so pathetic. You wished there was a way to erase your pain, anything to bring you to your normal self again.

“It's okay baby,” Peter hugged you into a tight embrace, kissing your tears as they fell in slow salty streams. “I know it hurts, I feel it too. But I read somewhere that the best thing to do is keep a consistent routine. Maybe you should start today. Come get lunch with me.”

You wanted to agree, but there was no part of you that could move from the weight of your grief. It pressed you down, gravity multiplied by the mass of your sadness as it consumed you. It felt as if only a miracle could save you now.

“I’m so sorry.” you stated with remorse, but Peter made no move to share his disappointment if he had any at all. Instead he leaned down from his seated position and placed his lips on your forehead, a gesture as if to say that all was alright.

“Please don’t cry, y/n. It’s okay.” he assured you before standing to leave and get you something that you figured you probably wouldn’t even eat very much of.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised, turning the handle of your door to leave before looking back at you sprawled on your bed. Suddenly, as if he had recalled the cure to the rainiest of days, he expression shifted to one of great excitement as he stopped back into your room.

“I almost forgot,” he began. “Doctor Strange was here earlier. He wanted me to tell you he’s offering some meditation sessions for you if you’re interested. He said they’d be good for your powers and that they might help you feel better if you want to think about it. He’s free at 8 tomorrow.”

You nearly perked up at the sound of the man’s name, picking up your head to cast a last longing glance at Peter as he waited for a parting word.

“Thanks,” you managed. “I’ll let you know.”

And off Peter went to get you both something to eat.

You weren’t sure if he knew how dangerous it was for you to be left with your thoughts, how the mention of the magic doctor sprouted a myriad of mystical ideas all aimed at the same goal that would erase your eternal lonesome aching. How to bring your father back. By the time Peter returned with his hands full of two homemade sandwiches and more sweets than the two of you could ever finish in one sitting, your mind had been made up and you were ready to set the plan in motion.

The following evening was your first time out of the confines of your rooms for days. Peter had helped you greatly with all the tasks you did not have the mental power to do all on your own. He had brushed your hair and made your bed and before you left in one of the less expensive cars held on Avenger’s campus, he sent you off adorned with one of his favorite sweatshirts, a peck on the forehead and enough I love you’s to last more than a lifetime.

You pulled the sleeve of Peter’s sweatshirt over your palm as you drove off, using the cloth to wipe away fresh tears that had fallen after you left your boyfriend’s loving gaze. You’d always been an overthinker, but your bad habits crept up on you worse in your unbreakable stage of sadness. Especially in your father’s favorite car.

You didn’t understand why he hadn’t left you already. Maybe he would. Peter had offered to join you at Strange’s, but after you insisted you had to go alone, he made plans to go help his Aunt May figure out their apartment situation as the pair had been inadvertently kicked out after being gone for so many years. You’d almost forgotten he used to split his nights between the compound and his own bedroom. Recently he’d only stay with you.

He promised to be back before dinner so that the two of you could keep up your progress, but an unsolicited voice within you convinced you that he wouldn’t want to return. You weren’t good enough for him anymore, not like you used to be. Your plan was better for the both of you and as you pulled up to the familiar building on Bleecker Street, all the pieces started to fall into place.

You stepped up to the door, raising your fist to knock only for the door to crack open by itself as if to invite you in. You waited for the familiar sternness of Doctor Strange’s voice to greet you once you were past the stone floored foyer, but only wisps of the autumn breeze caught your ear. 

“Strange?” you called, your voice still not stable enough to be louder than a whispery dialogue. You were met with no response. It was just like you had planned. The wizard wasn’t home.

You felt a strong tug towards the room of your desires, the forbidden library. It was as if fate was leading you or some other force from above, another sign that you were meant to do it.

Your steps were more sure than they had been in days as you made your way to the self, passing any magical fire walls with the sheer unfiltered strength of your powers. Strange once told you that they were guided by your emotion, the quintessential essence of every magic holder even to people like you and Wanda Maximoff who were outside of his world protecting wizard cult. It was easier than it should have been, like slicing paper with a katana, you broke each enchantment until all that was left was the cool leather cover of the book you were looking for. The book with every answer you needed inside its ancient yellowing pages, but you only needed the spell that would revive your father. Locating it near the middle of the book, your tore out the page and turned back to your car, leaving the Sanctum with the same unhurried pace you had entered it with. There was no stopping you now.

Peter was only an half an hour late for your agreed meet up time when he arrived at the campus. He expected you’d be in your room as per usual and as he made his way to your door, the excitement of getting to hold you and talk about your first day out of the campus since the funeral built up in his chest. He wasn’t sure if any accomplishment in the world could make him as proud as he was of you. With two brown paper bags of groceries in his hand, he couldn’t wait to shower you in the affection that you deserved with all of your favorite snacks, enough to share of course.

“Y/n,” he smiled, using his webbing to open your door handle only to find, much to his disappointment, that you were nowhere to be found.

He checked all over campus, leaving the bags by your bed. No one had seen you since you’d left and the spot where the car you’d taken was still empty, the normally pristine concrete covered in fallen crisp maroon leaves. It didn’t make any sense. Where could you possibly have gone?

“Y/n!” he called, circling the perimeter of the campus looking for you. There was still no sign of your reappearance. “Y/n- oh. Hi Ms. Maximoff.” Peter forced a strained smile as he nearly bumped into the woman.

“Peter, we’ve been over this,” Wanda answered, her voice calm. “You can call me Wanda.”

Like you, the witch hadn’t been doing the best in recent days as she had lost something just as valuable as a father: her partner. While she occasionally had days where the ground would’ve been lucky to feel the grace of her step, her superhero duties had kept her from spending each day hidden from society. She had a different way of coping, but like others, she seemed to start getting back into routine again.

“Right, sorry Wanda.” Peter apologized.

“What are you doing out here?” inquired the witch in her native Sokovian accent, always intuitive. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s y/n. I can’t find her anywhere and we agreed to meet back here nearly - an hour ago!” Peter pulled up his coat sleeve to check the time on his watch, the face of which bore a picture of him and your father from only a few months before the snap. It had been a birthday gift, one of his favorites in fact, though it couldn't top what you had given him the same year: a lego set and your first kiss.

“I didn’t know that she got out of bed. That’s a big step!” 

“Yes it is and we were going to celebrate tonight, but she hasn’t come back yet which is really not like her.” worried Peter.

“Where did she go?”

“Strange’s. He was going to give her a meditation lesson for her powers.”

Confused, Wanda's eyebrow furrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Doesn’t she know how to use them already?”

“Yes, but he thought it would help her manage her grief. Working out is a pretty common method, but she hates going to the gym so he figured some meditation would be better for her and -“

“Wait, hold on. Did she go to him this morning?”

“Yes and she was supposed to be back around noon, but it’s nearly six and she’s still gone.” Peter explained.

“Peter!” Wanda chided. She couldn't believe he could make such a grave mistake.

“What?”

“Strange hasn’t been at the Sanctum all day!”

“What?! Where is he?”

“Do I look like a wizard to you?" the witch gestured to her casual leggings and cardigan pairing that drastically differed from Strange's usual eccentric costumes. "How should I know?”

As if summoned by the topic of conversation, a figure appeared in the distant grass, hovering over the blades until he was close enough to be able to walk. His cape that flowed in the breeze like a blood red stream with a mind of its own was a dead give away. Doctor Strange had indeed arrived in the flesh.

“Parker,” he greeted, though he did not smile. “Is Ms. Stark ready for our lesson?”

Peter’s eyes went wide as he realized his mistake.

“Oh no.” he muttered, shaking his head in defeat. He was met with confusion from the wizard.

“No?” Strange repeated. “We agreed upon 8 didn't we? I know I'm a little early, but I assumed she wouldn't be busy. Didn’t you let her know I was coming?”

“Yes,” Peter confirmed. “I told her to be ready and then I sent her off to your place at 8… am.”

“What?!” Strange exclaimed as he summoned a portal to appear leading directly to his found home on Bleecker Street. He stepped through the fiery ring, a silent invitation for the others to follow as he hurried passed your car, up the steps, and into the door which did not part of him the same way it had earlier. Inside he was met with the most frightful of discovers accompanied by the looming feeling of doom as the situation became clear.

The Sanctum, unguarded with his absence, lay littered with books that had fallen from their homes on his shelf’s yet one stood out from all the others. It laid on the floor open with its pages to the ground while every other book was shut. Levitating it with the simple flick of his wrist, a horrifying sight awaited Strange as he turned it over. One of the pages in the sacred book was missing.

“Do you know how serious this is?!” Strange exclaimed and although Peter at first took it as a barbed criticism aimed directly at him, he was able to distinguish Strange’s tone from when he was reprimanding. This was a separate kind of worry, the sort of tone that he had used heavily on the fated spaceship you three had been stuck in until you landed on Titan, Thanos’ home world, nearly five years ago. Treachery was afoot and if your powers were involved, the whole fabric of your current reality could change.

“Which one did she take?” Wanda pointed to the book, clearly noticing the giant tear in its center.

Strange’s voice answered, heavy with concern. “The revival spell.”

“You don’t think she knows, do you? She can’t possibly know how to conjure it.” asked Wanda, the same concern for their future written all over her face.

“That’s exactly what I think.” Strange confirmed.

“What?” Peter asked. “What are you guys talking about?”

“There are many types of magic, Parker, and the Sanctum, the building where you sent your girlfriend, is full of all of them, good and bad alike. Every spell comes with a price, the bigger the spell, the bigger the price and the spell she took comes with one of the biggest prices there is to pay.”

“Think about it, Peter,” Wanda paled. “What does y/n want most in the world right now?”

It hit Peter harder than fresh fallen hail. You were going to try to bring your father back.

“We have to find her. Now.”

Strange tried to use his sling ring to appear wherever you were, but in your grief, the extent of your powers had grown massively. Intentionally or not, you managed to prevent even the most powerful of wizards from using his Sling Ring to access your location.

“She's blocked me out.” Strange frowned. “We’re going to have to track her on foot.”

“She can’t be far,” Peter agreed. “She always takes the shortest path whenever she wants something.” It was one of the many things he loved about you: your ability to turn any taxing task into something much simpler. You were one of the cleverest people he knew. He just hoped it didn’t work in your favor this time.

It was Wanda who had the idea of tracking your magic. She led them to the nearest withering woodland area, where trees with bare branches and dying leaves sprawled endlessly. It was the perfect place to perform dark magic, away from the unyielding eyes of society. The trio didn’t hesitate to run in.

The further they got, the closer you felt especially to Peter despite the fact that he was the only one without his own source of magic. If he lost you tonight, he feared he’d never feel any sort of magic ever again.

They were only half an acre in when Wanda and Strange called out in anguish, the witch falling to her knees while Strange stayed standing, pounding the air with his fist as his trying to break through an invisible barrier though it was to no avail. Whatever was holding him back, it wasn’t fading anytime soon.

“Keep going, Parker!” he shouted, urging Peter forward. “You’re the only one who can stop her. The spell will only allow that which she loves.”

“How do I do it?” Peter shouted. “How do I stop the spell?”

“The page,” Wanda replied, quicker than Strange could as his reply was easy for her to access. “You have to tear it apart.”

Without wasting a second more, Peter sprung back towards where he could feel you, running without fatigue as his superhuman endurance supplied him with plenty of energy.

It was only a minute later that he caught his first sign of you. There was a break in the tree line out of which a bright amber glow poured like an incandescent warning. It was a dramatic contrast from the normal comforting emerald greens of your magic, but it was you nonetheless and Peter didn’t stop until he was so close he had to shade his eyes from the light.

If it weren’t for the dark nature of what you were doing, Peter would’ve considered it one of the most beautiful events he’d ever seen take place. He wasn’t sure if the circle of trees that surrounded you had been a natural formation or one you made for the sake of the spell, but he was sure the way they seemed to bend to your will, despite the hard wood of their birch trunks, had to be because of your power. In the center of it all was you and the page you had stolen atop a pile of purple and golden leaves. You stood before it, eyes closed as you whispered some sort of incantation. Your powers spread above you in orange flickering flames as you outstretched your arms and summoned what looked like the beginnings of a portal, though it was hard to peer through like a bride covered in a veil of night black.

Peter shouted your name, screaming for you to stop, but you didn’t so much as flinch as the portal grew. You couldn’t hear him over the force of your will. He could start to feel what Wanda and Strange were trapped behind. There was some sort of invisible wall that threatened to push him back from you, but he couldn’t be defeated. He had to stop you. Step by step, he got closer and closer to you, watching in horror as your body was lifted from the ground and floated in midair. A new energy started weeping through the fabric that covered your chest, soft and white like a sheer glittering fabric. It drifted towards the portal and as Peter neared you he could make out the outline of a face forming from it in the black center of it. It started to take shape, growing a neck and a body and becoming more concrete than a fragmented part of your energy. He became more unmistakable as the color grew back into his face. Tony Stark, in the flesh. Peter hurried towards the page.

You opened your eyes to gaze into the face of your father, tears flowing down your face partially from the exhaustion of bringing him back and from being able to see him again.

You tried to say something, tell him how much you had missed him, but you were left rendered without a voice. Your words came out as mouthed nonsense, though it seemed he had regained his voice.

“Y/n,” he uttered, though it seemed more like a warning than a greeting after being torn from you for so long.

You mouthed something you knew he’d understand. I love you too, dad.

Some other force called your name, but you ignored it. You couldn’t focus on anything else, but the father you had lost regaining life right in front of you. With every part that he gained, you felt a part of your fade. It wasn’t painful, more numbing than anything like the final dose to end all your sadness. You couldn’t help but relish in it. You were bringing back one of the greatest men to ever live.

You were so distracted, you missed the web that landed on the page below you and pulled it away.

“Y/n,” your dad said again, nearly having enough of one of his legs to step out of the portal when suddenly, the inky blackness swallowed him whole again and dissolved in the forest light, taking back the only thing you ever wanted.

“NO!” you cried as your voice returned to you and you fell back down to the dry grass and dead leaves, crumpled on the forest floor as all of the magic you had summoned faded away save for the glittering cloud that returned to your chest with such force it made you cough. You had failed.

“Y/n!” someone called and you shuddered away from their hand on your shoulder as loud sobs erupted from you. 

“Leave me!” you begged. “Just leave!” Peter refused to leave your side, tossing behind him the page he had shredded into tiny scraps of paper as he knelt beside you, careful not to touch you again. “Why did you have to do that? Why did you take him from me?”

“You were going to die! I couldn’t let you di-“

“I WANTED TO DIE!”

Peter froze as you whimpered, the truth spreading above the both of you in the cold air like storm clouds as you cried to him.

“I want him back. Everyone wants him back. No one cares about his depressed daughter and I don’t want to hurt anymore, Peter.” you paused to take a deep breath. “It- it hurts so much.” you could barely get the words out as you were choked by your sobs. “It hurts knowing I could’ve saved him. It hurts knowing it should’ve been me that snapped those stupid stones. And I don’t want to live with that anymore. I had to try to bring him back for the world. It needs him more than it needs me.”

You brought a hand to your face, wiping away some of your tears, though it was no use as more came pouring out.

“I need you.” uttered Peter, looking into your glossy eyes. The sight of your tears and the echo of your screams couldn’t deter him from you. You can’t be repelled from the ones that you love.

“But you miss him, don’t you,” you argued as hot tears coated your face. “You want him back too.”

Peter nodded in agreement.

“I think about him everyday. Our moments together. Like this one time he saved me from drowning in a lake. Or-“ Peter grinned. “- remember when he caught us making out that one time before we told him we were together. He was so mad.” Peter smiled to himself, looking fondly on the memory until he began again.

“I miss him so much and it makes me so sad that I'll never see him again. But I wouldn’t trade you for him. I wouldn't trade you for anyone. You’re worth more to me than anyone else in the universe.”

Your sobs slowed yet the tears did not cease as they still cascaded down your face.

“It hurts me so much.” you restated.

Peter opened his arms. “May I?” he asked. You nodded and before you knew it, you were engulfed by a warmth unlike any other as Peter hugged you tight enough to make sure you wouldn’t try to leave him again.

“I know you do,” he related. "And I wish I could take it away. I wish I could just bag all your pain and throw it all away. But it doesn't work like that. It's going to hurt. It's going to be painful, so much so that you won't move from bed for days and days. You haven't." 

"But I feel like everyone else has already moved on. Why can't I?" you shivered.

"No one else was as close to him as you. Everyone else lost a friend. You lost a father. There's a big difference. You can't expect yourself to move on from it. That's not healthy. It's just like I said, I'm here for you no matter how long it takes. You have to take your time with it, don’t rush the process." Peter pressed the lightest of kisses to one of your dampened cheeks.

"I just don't know what to do."

"Breathe."

As silly as it sounded in its simplicity you did as he instructed and inhaled deeply, allowing the air to coat your lungs that hadn’t been exposed to so much fresh air in a week. As you exhaled, you let out another sob in his arms, but somehow it felt better than all the others. You were not rid of your pain by any means and sadness still corroded your core, but for the first time in so long, you didn’t feel so hopeless. Peter placed another gentle kiss on your cheek, encouraging you as you took several more slow breaths and quiet cries until you found the strength to speak again.

“Was it like this for you when your parents died?” you wondered aloud as you pulled away from Peter to look into his chocolate brown eyes that you almost forgot you loved so much, yet not so far that he couldn't keep his arms around your frame that was still bearing his sweatshirt. You hadn’t spoken much about them before and while you weren’t sure where the question had arisen from, it felt like the right thing to ask.

“I was so young when they passed, sometimes I feel like they were never mine to begin with,” he admitted. “I took a couple days off school when it happened, but I don’t remember crying all that much. It’s tragic and sometimes it makes me sad that they’re gone, but I’m glad that it does. It’s a reminder that they were there for me in the first place, that I knew them enough to miss them. The grief is proof that I loved them while they were here.”

You were both silent for a moment as you thought about his words in relation to your situation. All your pain was put into perspective. Everything you had been through since he died, all the days you wasted away in bed, it was all the proof that you had loved him so much when he was alive and that you were still carrying the love you had left for him. You missed your father so much you were willing to die to get him back and for a moment, you almost did.

You parted from Peter’s arms to stand though you still grasped onto his hands as you weren’t strong enough to be upright on your own. You closed your eyes again and listened to the sound of the forest, the swaying of the leaves that still clung to their branches, the faint twittering of birds, and the calm of the sky that was oddly cloudless for autumn. The sound of your name falling from your father’s reformed lips was still faint in the air and for a moment you felt as though you were with him again.

You remembered when he taught you how to ride a bike one evening when you were only four. You remembered the day he pulled you from public school and started teaching you at home. You remembered the look of shock on his face when you showed him your powers for the first time and even more, you remember his pride when you completed your first mission with the Avengers (that he'd approved ahead of time to avoid any more Germany -like surprises). He wasn’t there, but at the same time he was everywhere. And you missed him, but at the same time the absence he left in your life felt less empty.

The tears came out in slow smooth streams, flowing down in slow trickles as you finally sat back down. You didn’t say anything and neither did Peter, but you knew he could feel what you felt. He could feel your father too and minutes slipped by as you sat and cried together.

There was a sudden rustling in the distance and soon enough, Doctor Strange and Wanda had arrived at the scene, no longer held back by invisible barriers. They rushed to you bringing flooding guilt through your system as you began to apologize.

“I’m sorry,” you cried. “I’m so sorry.”

Strange opened his mouth to speak, but he had nothing to say. You could tell by his expression that he was disappointed, but there was more to it. He had empathy.

It was Wanda that leaned down to place a friendly hand on your shoulder.

“Let’s get you home.”

The months following were some of the hardest of your life. Every battle you faced was uphill, but you no longer felt like you were fighting alone. You started going out again, first to visit Pepper and your half sister Morgan who lived in their cabin home. Peter joined you of course, but he played with Morgan for the most part while you and Pepper talked. You cried with her, but you laughed a lot too. She shared with you so many of her own memories, times when your father didn't know what to get you for your birthday, when he had managed to mess up cooking dinner in the strangest of ways, and when he’d accidentally burned your favorite stuffed animal in the drying machine all of which Pepper had to remedy. Though she hadn’t raised you, she was the mother you never had and through her stories you learned that your father had been just as good raising Morgan with her as he had been with you.

You hung out with Ned and MJ again shortly after that. While Peter had suggested a brief check-in at a cafe so you could go home quickly to rest, you surprised him with a much more time consuming idea: laser tag. The four of you had the best time targeting each other, you winning more rounds than any of the others. You ended the day with smoothies, talking as you drank and making plans for the next time you would all see each other. MJ made you promise you would text her if you ever needed anything and Ned gave you a whole plate of his Lola’s ensaymadas, your favorite dish of hers.

Finally, though he was locked up in his house and avoiding humanity, you visited Happy. Peter offered to join you like all the other times, but you assured him it would be best if he stayed home, promising you would return later. Happy was in a similar state of dismay to you when you saw him and while he was able to care for himself and continue with his personal routine, you could tell he was hurting.

You didn't say much when you first entered his apartment, but there was comfort within the silence. You sat with him on his sofa and watched whatever mind numbing program he had turned on to distract his thoughts until you had both worked up an appetite for lunch. It was there, in the middle of a random Burger King in Queens over a plate of cheeseburgers that you both broke down. You told him what you had nearly done, trusting him with the sensitive information as he was almost a second father to you. You took your time telling him the story of how you had nearly died to bring back your father.

Happy cried as you did and when you were finished, he told you how much you meant to him. He traded your story for one from your father after he returned from Afghanistan where he had famously been kidnapped.

"You could tell he was shaken," Happy began. "He told me he wasn't scared to die, but he was scared of losing time with you and leaving you alone. Pepper and I had been so busy trying to get him back, he was worried you had been neglected while he was gone. But when he came home and he saw your room clean, your toys put away, and a fridge full of leftovers from meals you prepared yourself, he was so proud. You inspired him to turn his life around. It was after that he told me that he knew you'd be okay if he was taken from us one day."

You both cried after that.

Long after you had finished your food, Happy drove you to the Parker's new apartment with the promise that he would be okay too, eventually. He also admitted that he was starting to develop quite the liking for your faithful boyfriend after hearing all that he had done for you, though he’d skin you alive if you ever told Peter.

It was that night in Peter's new bedroom that you knew you’d be okay. It still hurt to think of your father and you knew you’d never entirely recover and that the pain would never fully leave you, but there was a certain comfort in it now. You knew Peter felt it too as he snuggled half asleep into your side, his arm slung around your body in a protective manner, but also to keep from falling of the twin bed you shared as he let you sleep on the side with the wall. There were still days when you didn’t want to leave your bed, but there were also days when you felt more elated than ever. You could feel your father in those moments the most, like the shine of his smile took form in the light from the sun. You couldn’t see him nor could you speak with him, but you knew he wasn’t really gone. It was love that kept him around. And it was the love you carried for him that would suspend you for lifetimes, through light and dark until the end of time.

“I hope this grief stays with me because its all the unexpressed love” - Andrew Garfield 💙

[gunsandspaceships]

Secret Wars

Here's an idea:

Marvel will assemble their three main anchor beings to save the Multiverse in Secret Wars.

This makes me think that the announcement that RDJ will be playing Doctor Doom is a ploy to hide his real role.

[kaminocasey]

As Luck Would Have It

A/N: HELLO IM BACK??? AND WITH PETER B. PARKER SMUT??? Crazy, wild. lol. After MONTHS of not writing anything, I give you this.

Pairing: Peter B. Parker x Assassin!Reader

Summary: Your husband is Spider-Man. You're an assassin and he doesn't know. However, while it does complicate things, you try to keep him safe from your boss. Unfortunately, complications arise.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Smut, oral (f receiving), biting, fingering, Peter has a Daddy Kink, very light choking, light angst

WC: 2.1K │ TAGLIST FORM │Marvel Sideblog: @stevengrantnotrogers

(Pics from pinterest)

The morning light pours into yours and Peter’s bedroom making you beat your first alarm of the day. You groan slightly into your pillow, prepared to get up and start your day. There’s a lot to do today since you have to run over to-

“Uh uh. Stay.” Your husband, Peter’s, warm hands pull you toward his even warmer frame, engulfing you. 

You lean back a little bit to give him a sleepy kiss with a chuckle. “Got too much to do, babe. I’m sorry.” 

“Nope. You don’t. I said so.” He grins into your neck, breathing you in.

“So clingy.” You playfully roll your eyes.

“Don’t forget about bossy.” He kisses your bare shoulder. 

“Ah, yeah. Definitely can’t forget that one.” You laugh. 

“How about I give you incentive to stay?” Peter whispers hotly against your ear. 

You can’t help but bite your lip. “What kind of incentive?”

“The kind where I make you cum 3 times on my face before I fuck you into this bed.” He bites your earlobe, his fingers already starting to trail dangerously low toward your panties. “Would that be okay?” 

“Y-yeah… Pete… I think that would be more than-” You start to agree before Peter’s other hand pulls your face toward his own and he slides his fingers down to tease your already wet folds. “Fuck…” 

He growls into the kiss. “God, you’re so fucking wet for me already. So needy, aren’t you?”

You nod, a little pathetically you might add, against his face as he starts to kiss you again. To anyone else, Peter seems so goofy and like he wouldn’t be a very dominant type. But he never ceases to surprise you. 

“Tell daddy how bad you want it.” He whispers against your lips, holding your throat softly. 

The moment you try to tell him how badly you need him, to be full of him, he slips a long slender finger into you and you can’t help the whine that escapes your lips. He smirks against your lips as he pulls his fingers out just to push them back in repeatedly until you’re begging for more.

“T-tongue…” You beg, breathlessly. 

He chuckles darkly. “That’s not how you ask for things, is it baby?” 

“P-please… Peter…” You grind down against his hand, begging for any sort of friction, needing that release.

He curls his fingers against that spongy spot inside of you and you buck against his hands sharply. 

“Please what?” He asks, clearly enjoying this way too much. 

You look up at him, eyes dark with lust for your husband. “Pl-please… use your tongue…” 

He chuckles and kisses your temple. “Good girl.”

Peter slides his finger out of you and moves down your body as you settle against the pillows. He slips your panties down your legs, tosses them to the floor, and then bites the inside of your thigh making your back arch up away from him. His arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you closer to his face. 

He moans at the sight of your bare cunt and looks up at you, making eye contact as he starts to lick a long stripe up your folds.

“Fuck… Pete…” You whimper, your hand flying to his hair to anchor yourself to him. 

He groans against your warmth as your grip in his hair tightens. Unable to help it, you smirk down at him. He shoots you a wink and your whole body goes ablaze. 

After all this time together, you’re still incredibly hot for each other. After meeting in college and being married for almost 10 years, you truly can’t get enough of each other. He’s your best friend and you’re his. 

Peter’s tongue finds your clit and you grip his hair again, making him growl as he tightens his grip on your thighs so rough, you’re sure to bruise. 

“Fuck that’s so good.” You moan. 

Unfortunately, the sound of your phone ringing, specifically the tone that you have for your boss, starts to ring out into the room, immediately killing the mood. 

“God, he’s the fucking worst.” Peter groans into your thigh, resting his cheek against it, looking up at you.

You shrug, breathlessly. “I know, I know… I’m sorry…” 

You lean over toward your nightstand and pull your phone off the charger and answer your boss. 

“Hello?” 

“I need you here. Now.” His deep voice demands. 

You know you can’t say no. 

“On it.” You reply and he hangs up.

Peter lets go of you and moves back up toward his side of the bed. He still thinks you work in publishing, because if he knew the real you… he probably wouldn’t love you anymore. And you’ve been doing everything you possibly can to protect him from your boss. So far, you’ve been lucky.

“I’m sorry, baby.” You kiss him on the cheek and get up, quickly getting dressed. 

“It’s okay. Let me know if you’ll be home for dinner and I’ll go pick us something up.” He gets up and comes to kiss you on the lips.

“I love you, you know that?” You look up at him, smiling.

“Duh.” He winks.

You roll your eyes, smirking. He always seems to keep a good attitude about things when your boss makes you come in at all hours. Today, though, you thought you weren’t going to be needed. Biggest downside to being too good at your job, you suppose. 

You finish getting ready and then give Peter one more kiss and leave the house, getting on your motorcycle that Peter keeps begging you to sell so you guys can get a Prius (not happening). 

As you speed into the city, toward Fisk tower, traffic and the weather luckily seem to be on your side today and you make it there in record time. 

When you park your bike in front of the building, the doorman, Harold, greets you just like he does every morning. Despite working for such a morally questionable man, he and his wife are the sweetest people.

“Morning, sweetheart.” He smiles. 

“Hi, Harold. How’s Caroline?” You ask as you hold your helmet in one hand. 

“She’s good. She says hello and that you need to come by for dinner soon.” He playfully scolds you.

“If Fisk lets me have a day off, I promise to take you guys up on that.” You wink and walk into the building, toward the glass elevators, hitting the top button so that it takes you straight to Fisk himself.

You look out at the city, missing Peter already, just like you always do. You can’t stop thinking about the way he reacted when you pulled his hair. 

Ugh. Get it together. You know better than to think of Peter here. 

Before the golden elevator doors even open, you can hear Fisk shouting at someone on the phone. 

Great… 

The doors open and Fisk looks up at you. 

“Sir.” You nod. 

“Do I look like a fucking idiot?” He points at you.

You shake your head. “No, why?”

He shakes his own head, pacing back and forth.

“Osborn seems to think so. He’s lucky I haven’t had him taken care of yet…” 

You’re waiting for Fisk to get on with his point, hoping he’ll make it there soon. You know better than to interrupt him when he’s fuming like this. 

“He can’t get a grip… he’s becoming a loose end. Go threaten him. Make him shit his pants if you have to.”

The Green Goblin… that’s who he’s sending you up against. You’re an assassin… You’re not equipped to go up against that.

“Sir, I’m not-” You start to voice your concerns.

Fisk’s head shoots up, staring at you. “Take some of the guys with you if you have to. Believe it or not, Norman is sweet on you.”

Jesus… The way he says it, he almost seems amused.

“Right. Okay.” You nod and head down to the garage to rally up some of the guys, deciding to take two of the SUVs. 

“We’re going to pay Osborn a visit.” You tell Johnny, trying to keep the nerves out of your voice. 

“Oh great…” Johnny whistles and rallies up 8 other guys.

You hop in the front passenger seat of Johnny’s SUV. It’s a quiet ride to Osborn’s apartment. You’re trying to figure out what you’re going to say to a man who seems like he’s on the verge of killing an entire city almost any chance he gets. 

The ride goes by quicker than you’d like and you hop out when Johnny pulls up to the front of Norman’s building. They all wait for your signal. 

“I’ll go in, try to talk him down. You guys be out in the hall ready to strike if you hear any signs of trouble.” You tell them. 

They all nod and you head up toward the top floor of Osborn’s, your gun is in the inside of your black leather jacket along with a few daggers. It’s usually all you need. But this… this makes you nervous. 

As you get to the door, you knock on the front door and find it's already open. Maybe you’ll get lucky and he won’t be home. 

A crash comes from somewhere in the apartment. No, you didn’t think you’d be that lucky. The guys all raise their guns, ready.

“Norm?” You call out into the apartment. “You okay?”

You hear loud clattering and walk back to the source of it, finding Norman skittering around his lab, mumbling to himself angrily. 

“N-Norm?” You say, in the doorway, prepared to grab your gun if you need to.

Norman Osborn looks up at you. His demeanor relaxes when he sees you but his eyes stay angry. 

“Kingpin sent you to kill me, didn’t he?” He chuckles humorlessly. 

You shake your head. “Just to talk.”

The quick change in his face says that was the wrong thing to say and the hair on your neck stands. 

“DON’T LIE TO ME! HE WANTS TO TAKE CREDIT FOR MY WORK! MY WORK!” He screams at you. 

He starts to throw shit around, picking up a desk like it weighs nothing and sending it soaring into the window and down below. You hear a car alarm go off and you just know that one of the SUVs was hit. 

“Norm, please-” You start to cautiously approach him. “All you have to do is-”

“Don’t tell me what I have to do!” He shouts, turning green. 

You put your hands up in surrender, nodding. “Okay, okay.”

All you wanted was a relaxing day with Peter… that’s all you fucking wanted. 

Norman starts to throw more shit out the window and you start to think you’re going to need the backup when as luck would have it, a long white line flies in front of you toward Norman and you recognize it instantly as web fluid.

“Fuck me.” You whisper-shout as you get down, hiding behind the wall. 

You’ve done so good about not having any run-ins with your husband, AKA Spider-Man. Today really is not your lucky day. 

You try your best to scurry out, heading out to the street and around the back alley where the SUVs pull up and you quickly hop in the first one, finding Johnny in the driver’s seat.

“Fucking Spider-Man…” Johnny shakes his head as he drives.

“Let’s get out of here. We aren’t prepared to deal with Goblin and the Spider.” You tell him.

You look out the window as you head back to Fisk Tower, trying to figure out what you’re going to say or do. Fisk is not going to be happy. You failed… which means you’re going to suffer the consequences one way or another. 

Taking the elevator back up to your boss’ office on the top floor, the knot in your stomach twists and turns. You quickly shoot Peter a quick text to let him know you love him, just in case. Hopefully he sees it after he’s done dealing with Osborn. 

When the doors open, Fisk is already waiting with his arms crossed, in his seat at his desk. He really knows how to command a room with that glare of his.

“Sir, I-” You start. 

“Failed.” He states, finishing your sentence as he sees fit. No questions about it.

You nod. “There were… complications.”

“I know. Spider-Man showed up.” He stares at you.

Shit. 

“Take care of him.” 

“Sir?” 

He stands up. “Kill the Spider-Man.” 

Your blood runs ice cold. 

“Because if you don’t…” He walks around his desk, stalking toward you like you’re prey. “You’ll be the one who’s taken care of if not. Got it?” 

He’s still staring down at you and for once in your life, you truly feel small. But not because of the large man towering over you. Because of the danger you’ve put you and your husband in.

[ddejavvu]

Spidergirl!au

Peter Parker is out patrolling one night and discovers another masked vigilante

He soon begins to notice that spiderman is being credited with her good deeds

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

--

Peter's beginning to hate interviews. They'd started innocent enough, proclamations of adoration from the crowd of fans, a microphone shoved under his chin, common courtesy at first.

But now they're growing to be a pain, invasive and restless. Three people have already reached for the underside of his mask just today, and he'll trap a potential fourth in webs if need be. He's starting to regret letting news anchors urge him off of the rooftops and down into the streets.

"So, Spider-Man," The woman in front of him presses on, mic nearly bumping his chin, "You've done quite a lot for our city lately! You repaired that faulty beam beneath the bridge, you stopped a 4-car pileup, you rain into a burning building for a baby! What's it like being a superhero?"

He shifts awkwardly on his feet, "Well, those first two were definitely.. intense, but I wasn't the one to run into the burning building."

He ignores the crowds confused murmurs, thinking back to the scene he'd missed by five minutes, but had found copious records of on youtube. The video named the vigilante as Spider-Man, but one glance at the hero's body and it was.. not his. The suit was different too, sleeker, more streamlined. He's spent the last three days wondering who you were, how you'd gained powers, and if he was ever going to meet you, so talking about you into a microphone felt strange.

"Oh? Well you've heard it here first, everyone." The woman looks down the lens of her camera, smile dead and voice overly-excited, "There's a Spider-Man 2.0!"

Before she can turn back to pester Peter more, he's up the nearest building and on the roof. He slumps back on his elbows, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he ponders you.

The powers that he possesses are dangerous. It's why everyone's after him, why he needs 'supervision'. And he knows it. He knows he won't abuse them, but he knows he could, and it worries him to think that you're out there running rampant with the same power, but less regulation.

On the other hand, you'd smashed through hot glass to rescue an infant. That was pretty heroic, in Peter's opinion. So he lays there, at a crossroads. You're either dangerous, or saintly. And he won't know which unless he observes you. When he sets off towards home, pointedly ignoring the crowd still beneath him, it's with a mission in mind: find you, watch you, figure you out.