#peter fucking with the avengers since day 1

[ljlokijinx]

The Avengers getting pardoned and returning to the Avengers Tower. Tony and Pepper are away so Peter is left to show them around.

Steve, getting out of the quinjet: Where's Stark?

Peter, dropping from the air: Good afternoon pussies, cowards and scaredy-cats my name is Spider-man and I've been doing what the US government paid for and entrusted you with while you were busy throwing a tantrum against 117 countries and then running away from all responsibility to go live with your African sugar-daddy.

Steve:

Clint, to Natasha: Wow, he didn't even fucking stutter.

#avengers funny #avengers incorrect quotes #avengers incorrect scenarios #avengers #peter parker #spiderman #tony stark #black widow #bamf peter parker #powerful peter parker #post civil war #sassy peter parker #clint barton #steve rogers #peter fucking with the Avengers since day 1

[leclerc-s]

paint the town red - part three

FERRARI IS BACK BABY!

series masterlist

peter parker added 8 people

peter parker anyone have oscar piastri's number? this is for research. ALSO, CAN WE BRING BACK THE BLACK FIRE PROOFS??

carlos sainz you're a strange child.

harley keener that's what i've been saying since we met.

bianca stark-potts peter, let it go.

tony stark i don't know if it's still a joke or if you're being serious about it.

peter parker it isn't for me, it's for ned.

bianca stark-potts BULLSHIT!!

peter parker i'm in love with him, mj understands (i think)

arthur leclerc i too am in love with oscar piastri, we kissed one time. charles leclerc it was for a video, and you didn't actually kiss. arthur leclerc but i wanted too.

peter parker but think about it, i get oscar to fall madly in love with me, i take the competition out at the same time.

carlos sainz you think oscar is the only competition we have?

peter parker well no, i can send the avengers after the rest. like what’s max verstappen gonna do against black widow? or lewis hamilton against bucky barnes?

ollie bearman right i forget you people know the avengers

tony stark i am the avengers

arthur leclerc no, you’re iron man. the avengers are the entire team.

peter parker realistically speaking the only one able to take an avenger on would be toto, and i think he could only take on rocket or groot.

arthur leclerc the fucking raccoon?

peter parker he gets defensive when you call him a raccoon.

bianca stark-potts right, who gave him coffee? he only brings this type of shit up when he's had sugar.

charles leclerc it was an accident…i did not know he would get like this. and he made those eyes!

tony stark he does that a lot.

arthur leclerc one could say it was an inchident?

charles leclerc ARTHUR I SWEAR I'M GOING TO KILL YOU harley keener THIS IS GOLD!! I'VE HIT THE GOLD MINE!! ARTHUR LECLERC YOUR HAND IN MARRIAGE NOW!!

harley keener fucking snitch, parker

bianca stark-potts peter had coffee, well if what charles drinks is even coffee. it's pure sugar.

harley keener facts.

natasha romanoff again, aren't you people supposed to be working?

harley keener considering seb and tony are busy scolding peter and charles for the coffee thing, we're good for now. also, carlos left to pick up our lunch it was his turn today.

steve rogers peter drank coffee? i thought that was banned at the paddock??

bianca stark-potts it was, but charles wasn't here the day of the wall-climbing incident. therefore he didn’t know what would happen

bucky barnes did he not know peter was spider-man?

harley keener he did because we told him, carlos, and seb first. however, we never went over the rules

sam wilson i guess it’s time to break out the peter parker handbook again

tony stark aren't you two supposed to be working? focusing on the upcoming race?

bianca stark-potts i'm trying to mass send the peter parker handbook to everyone.

harley keener i'm currently watching old C2 videos.

sam wilson lord help all the fans who are counting on you two idiots to deliver a decent car

bianca stark-potts WE BUILT A FUCKING ROCKET SHIP SAMUEL!

BAHRAIN 2024

scuderiaferrari CHARLES LECLERC P1! CARLOS SAINZ P2! IT'S A FERRARI 1-2 IN BAHRAIN MOTHER FUCKERS!! THAT'S HOW YOU KICK OFF A SEASON!! CONGRATS TO SIR LEWIS HAMILTON FOR HIS P3!!

tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, lewishamilton

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username NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT?

↳ username NEVER GIVE UP!!

username I CAN FORZA FERRARI SEMPRE AGAIN BITCHES!!

harleykeener LET'S FUCKING GO!!

↳ samwilson i never doubted you guys for a second

↳ biancastark_potts lies. slander. you said we couldn't do it.

username IS THIS WHAT RED BULL FANS FELT AFTER EVERY WIN??

↳ username you guys got luck max had a breaking issue. he ended up in 4th but next week is our week.

↳ username as a longtime tifosi, i've heard that one before

↳ username however, wishing you guys the best of luck next week.

biancastark_potts and harleykeener posted new stories

ferrari 1-2 here in bahrain! ferrari is back baby!

the only way to kick off a season is with a 1-2!

SAUDI ARABIA 2024

taglist: @celesteblack08 @be-your-coffee-pot @evans-dejong @elliegrey2803 @bingewatche @arkhammaid @sunflower-golden-vol6 @lorarri @melanier7 @ironspdy @mypage-myfandoms @vellicora @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @enchantedthoughts @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @fulla02 @cowboylikemets1989 @six-call @embrosegraves @justtprachisblog

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

¡leclerc-s speaks! this is what i wish the 2024 season would look like for ferrari but who knows if we'll ever get that. on the brightside only two more races left with the sf-23 and then we can finally throw that shitbox in the trash can, where it belongs. (note: the drivers on the top tweet are as follows: lando, esteban, max, and george.)

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #paint the town red series #f1 instagram au #f1 x oc #f1 oc #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 fic #f1 x female oc #charles leclerc x female oc #marvel social media au #f1 x marvel crossover

[xlovely-daydreamsx]

IFHY CH. 1 (Miguel O’Hara x Reader)

God, he can’t stop himself now. Not with how you peer up at him through long lashes, eyes glazed over with lust. Not with how your tongue darts out to lick your lips and he thinks about capturing them in his own, biting at them until they’re red and swollen and that adorable pout is forever plastered on your face.

He watches your fingers glide under the waistband of his suit, manicured nails scraping lightly against the skin there and he almost moans. 

How long had it been since he let another person touch him like this, or rather, at all?

Warnings: nsfw (18+), possesiveness, rough, mild blood, dirty talk, mentions of character death, you and miguel are both sad and bad at coping

Word Count: 4085

Note: This might be an ongoing series because I have So Many Thoughts. Feel free to send me asks about anything confusing, and let me know if I should continue to post this here or not... IFHY is a Tyler the Creator song, which y’all should listen to - it’s my Miguel’s anthem basically lmfao. ANYWAYS pls enjoy i appreciate u all!

When the spiders begin to infect your world, you know the only person who can keep things under control is you. At least, you’re the only one anyone would hold accountable if they decided to do something… unsavory, and if the large black hole in the middle of New York City was indicative of anything, it was that the spiders were nothing but trouble.

Peter called you first, because he always did. 

“Uhm, boss lady, there’s some other Spider-Men here, and they want me to join some secret society? I think I’m being recruited into the Illuminati…” he trails off, obviously whispering into the phone. Since your father had passed, Peter had sort of… leaned on you, in a sense. You hadn’t any recollection of meeting the boy despite his Avenger status, but he looked at you with so much melancholy in his gaze that you knew he must see something of Tony in you, and you’d allow it simply to make yourself feel better. Nobody thinks you’re anything like your dad, but on days like these, you can only wish you were.

“I’ll be right there, Pete.” You mumble back, setting his location into KAREN and heading out, thick black wings spreading behind you, launching you into the night.

The explosion comes moments after.

You see it in the sky - a clash of black and white that seems unworldly, knocking the wind from beneath your wings and sending you flying back, tumbling towards one of the hundreds of towering buildings in New York.

Crack. You hear it as you collide, feeling the dig of concrete and glass into your back - a feeling you’re all too familiar with, and yet it seems like so long ago that you had felt it last. It’s almost… exhilarating. 

You steady yourself with a foot against the building, launching yourself off of it and back towards the wreckage of whatever unfortunate event was unfolding in your city.

You watch beeps, signaling your close proximity to Peter and you begin your descent to him.

It was horrible, really, how excited you were at the idea of a fight. The last time you had been involved in something like this was with him by your side… maybe if everything went awry, you could join him soon enough.

There’s a huge fucking hole in your city, you realize as you approach.

“KAREN,” you speak into your wrist as you glide by, “send the bots out to scan and contain the area.” She replies with a conformation, but you’re too transfixed on the pit beneath you. It’s horribly, endlessly back, and you feel yourself being tugged towards it ever-so-slightly as you fly. 

You need to find Peter, and fast.

You see the other spiders before you see yours. There’s three of them, all with striking blue and red suits, drawing your eye in curiosity. They all looked so… different. You expected some evil version of Peter, red eyes and big fangs and very obviously variants of your Spider-Man, but the crowd that greets you is nothing of the sort.

You plummet down to the surface, positioning yourself in front of your spider. His suit glimmers with gold and metals- a suit your dad supposedly had made for him.

Looking at it makes you a little queasy, and you fight the urge to stare at your palms, covered in the same glittering metals.

“(Y/N)!” Peter sounds so relieved. He’s always happy to have that weight off his shoulders, free of carrying the burden all on his own. You wonder how long he’d been doing so before you recruited him into the New Avengers.

You wonder how anyone could give up control like he can.

“I guess you guys haven’t gotten the memo,” you gesture at the trio of spiders in front of you. A biker chick, a ballerina, and the biggest fucking beefcake you’ve ever seen in your life; it’s somehow not the weirdest group of friends you’ve seen in your days in the city, “but Earth-616 is closed for tourism and immigration. I don’t care what planet, galaxy, dimension y’all are from, but you need to leave.”

“Sorry, pendeja, we’re not here for you. This is obviously Spider-Man business, no?” The beefcake speaks, strolling towards you leisurely. His arms are crossed, horribly large things that strain under the fabric of his suit. You smile warmly at him, cocking your head.

“Mmh, no.” The smile drops, “I am Earth-616’s representative, not Spider-Man.”

“I work for her!” Peter points at you, nodding to the other Spider-People. You try not to cringe.

“That’s your problem, not mine. My problem,” he points behind you at the gaping hole in the city, “is that.” He’s closer to you now, absolutely looming over you, and it’s then that you realize how truly large he is. You’d always been on the smaller side of the scale, but his stature was all encompassing, his shadow engulfing you with no effort at all. 

You watch as his eyes drift down to you, then back over your head at the pit, and with a little jingle on your watch, you’re prompted to bring your eyes to it, too. Your drones had arrived, and were making quick work of scanning the hole and surrounding areas.

“Don’t worry, little buddy,” you reach up and pat his arm - oh my God, he’s rock fucking solid, “I’m already taking care of it.”

He practically growls at you, “You don’t have the technology to take care of it; we barely do, and this is our specialty.” 

“Was that supposed to sound impressive?” He grimaces, “It’s okay to admit that someone’s better than you.”

The scowl he gives you sends a shiver down your spine.

“Look, I don’t have time to argue with some… little girl, okay? That hole could destroy your universe, do you understand? Now, step back and let us do our work.” You simply watch him as he steps past you to the ledge of the building, rocketing himself off of it. He flies for a minute, rather impressively, you might add, but it isn’t long before he approaches the hole and slams into something transparent, a ripple of blue emanating from where he collided with your drones’ protective barrier.

You turn to the other spider-people, who you can tell are trying to hold back laughter.

“Now, are we open to collaboration?”

Your house is so empty. Apartment, penthouse, whatever you want to call it, it was always the same when you got back. No laughter, no steps echoing through the hall, no glasses clinking in the kitchen. It’s just you and the ghosts of the life you’ll never get back.

So, when you enter the penthouse with a visitor in tow, the sound of his footsteps following close behind you - something other than the sound of your keys jingling and your ragged breathing - it almost feels alien to the space around you. This home wasn’t meant for people anymore; this was your silent prison.

But it’s comforting in a way. It feels familiar… melancholic. 

“You’ve got this whole place to yourself?” He lets his eyes wander over the space as you lead him down the hall, past the kitchen and towards the stairs.

“Yup,” you say with a pop of the P, sounding characteristically unenthusiastic about it. What you wouldn’t give to have that be untrue.

“It’s not as fun as you’d think it would be,” you lead him down the stairs, down, down, down towards the lab. Your father’s lab, which you haven’t bothered to enter in so many months. You had let Sam and Rhodey take whatever they wanted, but you hadn’t bothered to look. There was nothing worth seeing down here, anyways.

“I know it’s not,” he replies like it’s the most casual thing in the world, like everyone knows what it’s like to be totally, truly alone like you, “the silence is… too much.”

You don’t know how to respond, so you simply type in your code, allowing the glass door to slide open for him. The room is big, much bigger than you remember but somehow suffocating all the same.

You realize after a moment that there isn’t a single suit left in the lab, and you wonder if they really needed them, or if it was some kind of kindness for you.

You elect to stop looking.

“Make yourself at home, big guy.” You say, making quick work of cleaning your desk by simply wiping it all onto the floor with a clang. You don’t know what it was going to be, nor do you care to - he wasn’t there to help you finish it, and you had more work to do than ever. “KAREN, pull up our data on the big hole, please.”

‘Our earlier scans indicate that the hole is actually a large concentration of Anti-Matter,’ her robotic voice thrums through the room, holograms of information popping up all around you, ‘our drones have managed to contain it for the time being, but it seems to be trying to expand within the barrier’s perimeters.’

“I have one of those, too,” Miguel says behind you, too close for comfort. His presence is all-encompassing, casting you in a shadow, 

“A big hole?” You cock your head, and he only shakes his head disapprovingly.

“LYLA, pull up our data to compare.”

Another voice chimes as a little woman appears in front of you, a pout on her face.

“What, I don’t get a please? KAREN got one,” her eyes drift to you, “can I work for you instead?” Miguel just sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Now, please, LYLA.” She smiles, and your blue holograms are soon accompanied by orange, merging together in a technicolor lightshow in front of you both. 

“A lot of this data actually overlaps,” LYLA says, flickering in and out of view all over the room, inspecting everything you have to offer, “but your drones missed a few key components.” She expands a few pieces, covering you in the orange light of her holos. 

It’s times like these that you wish you really were Tony Stark’s daughter- then you might have a tiny bit of his intelligence to understand what was in front of you.

You’d figure it out eventually, though - you always do.

You can’t help but notice how much he looks at you. Your work had been rather silent so far, only small comments made when absolutely necessary on his part, but his eyes say more to you than anything else. Deep, dark circles that match your own, watching every move you make. Every bend, stretch, turn - his eyes are on you, tracing your delicate form.

You were well aware of the effect you have on men. Since you were young, much too young, you had known - you were the cover of Playboy at 16, Vogue and Cosmo in the following years, now too many to count. Teenage heartthrob (Y/N) Stark, just as wild and untamed as her father had been. At least, that’s always what they had said. You never tried to seduce anyone, but who wouldn’t want to be on their knees for a Stark?

Miguel, apparently, because every time you would catch his gaze he would avert it, avoiding your attention like the plague. He’s like a wild animal, cornered, threatened, by you. By your mere presence.

To be completely honest, it bothered you. Everyone wanted you, would try to take a bite whenever opportunity arose, so what was so special about him? Why wouldn’t he try? 

If you know anything, it’s that men love the chase.

And yet he won’t chase you at all.

It’s… irritating, you decide, but a good challenge nonetheless.

“You know,” you say, breaking the silence. You find yourself approaching his workspace, feet moving without any real thought behind it.

“You look lonely,” your hand trails against the desk and he watches as it glides across the sleek metal, his shoulders tense but unmoving, “We could keep each other company.”

You’re in front of him now, his knees slightly spread as he sits, and you knock them with your own to make room for yourself, sinking in between the space he makes for you.

“(Y/N),” he practically growls, and you know he wants it just as much as you do. You know he doesn’t think he deserves it. You know it’s an act of self punishment, so you ignore it. 

Your hand glides across the fabric of the suit straining against his thick, muscled thighs. You trail higher, higher up to the V of his hips and he releases a shuddering breath. Fingers searching until they find the button they’re looking for, allowing the lower half of his suit to release.

“Do you want me to?”

“Do you want me, too?” She asks him, her touch featherlight on his skin. She sets him ablaze, sending shivers wracking his body and a growing heat in his groin that he hasn’t felt in so long, save for lonely nights in his quarters, fisting himself shamefully in the shower and washing the evidence of his crimes down the drain. He needs it more than he’s willing to admit, and the way your voice echoes in his ears, soft and sweet and innocent. He can’t bring himself to tell you no, even though he knows you’d never ask him such a thing if you really knew him. But you want him, and it’s been so long since someone has wanted him, so he simply threads his fingers through your hair. 

God, he can’t stop himself now. Not with how you peer up at him through long lashes, eyes glazed over with lust. Not with how your tongue darts out to lick your lips and he thinks about capturing them in his own, biting at them until they’re red and swollen and that adorable pout is forever plastered on your face.

He watches your fingers glide under the waistband of his suit, manicured nails scraping lightly against the skin there and he almost moans. 

How long had it been since he let another person touch him like this, or rather, at all?

You pull the waistband down, down until his cock springs out of its place under the fabric, the head already pink and dripping.

Jesus, he looks so large compared to you. Your hands barely fit around it, the length of it seemingly almost as big as your head. You were so small, though - everything about you was small, and yet you acted so much larger than life that he had forgotten how fragile you appeared to be. He can’t forget it now, though - not with the comparison right in front of him; not with the way you were on your knees for him.

You place small kisses against his length, moving ever higher and leaving a trail of spit behind that left him aching. You sent him a coy smile before you licked against his tip, precum smearing on your lips like gloss. You take the head in easily, tongue swirling across the slit in a way that makes his hips buck up, but you keep your composure, a small hand against his pelvis to push him back down.

He reaches for it, taking your wrist in his hand, which completely engulfs you.

“Muñeca,” he lets out a shaky sigh, “I know you can take it.” No more words are needed - he knows you understand with the way you gaze up at him, your jaw going slack and your tongue laying flat underneath his cock. He tightens the hand in your hair and pushes you down, thrusting deep into your throat. He keeps pushing, fucking into you like a fleshlight, feeling the warm wetness of it with every motion. He wanted to mould you to the shape of his cock, have you still feel the ghost of him every time you swallow, missing the feeling of choking on him.

You gag around him but stay lax, pliant - obedient. Those eyes, God, glossy and tearful, but wanting. You want this, him, you want him, you want him-

He pushes your head down to his pubes, holding you there as your throat constricts around him and he cums deep, an iron grip keeping you in place as he empties into you.

With a rough shove, you’re off his cock and you stumble backwards off your knees, catching yourself on your hand as you cough. He barely gives you a second before an impossibly large hand grabs your face, fingers pushing roughly into your jaw.

“Show me,” he commands, and you oblige without complaint, mouth open and tongue out with an aah.

“Mi niña buena, no? So hungry for my cum.” He says, and you have the audacity to smile, nodding with your eyes shut lazily, nuzzling slightly into his grip.

He can’t control himself a second longer.

He grabs you harshly by the arm, pulling you upwards into his lap and straight into a kiss. He can’t help but growl into it, too much teeth on his end but he needs to feel in control, like he can capture you with every swipe of his tongue into your mouth and every nip against your bottom lip.

He thinks he tastes blood.

His hands find your thighs and he lifts you up, claws digging into your soft, supple skin as he drops you on the desk, pushing you with a harsh hand against your chest. Your back hits the table, cold metal against the part of your skin unveiled by your shirt riding up high on your back.

Miguel doesn’t have time to undress you, no time for tenderness or patience. Instead, he rips at your shorts, his animalistic claws tearing through the fabric of both them and your undergarments, leaving you bare below the waist and he takes it all in eagerly, eyes scanning every part of your body. He pushes your shirt upward, exposing your breasts kept carefully under a plain, black bra. One swipe of a claw and that falls away, too, leaving you completely exposed.

You don’t even look embarrassed.

Miguel is the one falling to his knees now, coming face to face with your bare pussy like a man praying at the altar, and it’s with closed eyes and shaking palms that he buries himself into it, tongue lapping incessantly at your folds.

He eats like a starving man, tongue flicking against your clit over and over until your back is arching inches above table, white knuckling the edges of it as abuses your sensitive cunt. 

The lust coursing through him threatens to tear him apart, so he braces himself with hands on your thighs, claws digging into the skin and leaving you with a hot pain to accompany the unending pleasure he’s giving you.

He sucks against your clit and your hand instinctively reaches for him, threading into his black locks and rutting against his tongue as you cum hard, harder than you ever have by yourself, alone in that room with your multitude of toys. Despite the many men you had been with, nothing could have prepared you for the beast that sits between your legs, eyes dark with a hunger that threatens to swallow you whole.

“Miguel, please,” You don’t even know what you’re begging for - more, mercy, you aren’t sure, but his figure is looming over you in seconds, his cock already hard once again as he rubs the tip against your sopping wet entrance, slick sounds echoing in the room along with your pants.

“Gonna fill you up with my cock, chiquita. Fill you up and stretch you out. Fuck,” he bares his fangs and you moan, “you want it, baby? Tell me you want it.” He grabs you by the jaw again, fingers gliding across your blood stained lips. “Ask your papi real sweet like.”

You can tell he wants it just as much as you do, feeling the heat from his cock against you, his precum adding to the slick of your cunt, but you want to beg him, want to obey, so you oblige.

“Please, please, fuck, I want you inside me. Break me, Miguel, please.”

Break you - fuck, he could do that. Every part of his body threatened to; his sharp claws against your soft skin, strong grip and large hands on your delicate wrists, his towering frame over your own, much smaller one. He was Godzilla and you were fucking Tokyo. 

His dick pushed into you entirely ungentle, his bestial tendencies apparent in everything he does. Your thighs are covered in scratches, some smeared with small lines of blood, and the constant mix of pain and pleasure makes your head spin.

He stretches you out thoroughly, his massive girth shoved into you inch by inch until he’s hilt-deep inside of you and you swear you can feel him in your womb.

He doesn’t waste any time, pumping in and out of you at a bruising pace, pulling you down to the hilt with every movement. You can barely think, head spinning, filled only with thoughts of the strong figure fucking into you like a dog in heat.

He’s so, so much bigger than anything else you’d ever had, and the way he stretches you open leaves your stomach in knots.

He’s in love with your pussy. The taste of you is like honey, your warmth engulfs his cock in a pleasure like no other- it’s like you were made for him.

He leans down and captures you into another kiss, broken up by your incessant moans with every thrust of him into your cervix. It’s all too much and not enough at the same time, and when he pulls out of the kiss and opts to leave trails of them along your neck, teeth nipping and gnashing at the skin they find there. Every part of this man threatens to consume you, and yet you give yourself up readily, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your nails into his back as you moan. 

He growls against your shoulder and you feel sharp teeth pierce into you, deep searing pain that rips a cry out of your mouth as your orgasm crashes over you. He fucks your through it, hard thrust after thrust until you feel him twitching inside you and he buries himself balls deep, cock pulsing as he fills you with cum.

Neither of you can bother to care about the implications.

He can’t help but stare down at you as you lay there, chest heaving and eyes half-lidded. You looked fucked, and it took everything in him to stop himself from fucking you again. Maybe he went too rough, he thinks as he stares at the bleeding bite on your shoulder and scratches littering your body, but when he pulls out and your pussy is gushing with your cum and his own, he can’t bring himself to regret it in the slightest.

“You took it so well, (Y/N).” The sound of your name on his tongue pulls you out of your stupor and you can only respond with a groan, your hand rubbing against your eyes.

You needed a shower and a nap.

You push yourself up onto your elbows and watch as he secures his suit back in place, the traces of your deeds only apparent on your soiled figure.

He presses a few buttons on his watch, and in a moment, a small, metal spider crawls out of it, making you furrow your brow as you watch him fiddle with it. Holding it by the leg, he holds it out to you, and you hold your palm up warily. It drops into your palm, skittering before settling itself in your grasp.

“All the data you need is compiled on that little guy. Try to take care of it, okay?” You nod, much too tired to speak.

Miguel’s eyes flit over you one last time, and the way his brow furrows leaves you wondering what exactly he’s thinking in that gorgeous head of his.

He takes one impossibly large step toward you, hand reaching for your face and it takes all your willpower not to flinch away from him. His grasp is gentle this time, thumb tracing against the soft curve of your jaw as he places a small, delicate kiss against your forehead.

“Take care, chiquita.” 

And with that, he takes his leave, the light of his portal dimming as he exits, leaving you alone.

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #reader insert #x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader

[mediocre-daydreams]

IDK IF YOUR PROMPT LIST IS FOR REQS BUT I JUST HAD A BRILLIANT IDEA peter parker x stark! OR avenger!reader and they both have obvious crushes on eachother but don’t know how to approach it so the ALL of the avengers just decide to push them together by driving peter insane with jealousy, EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM is just like “if nothing’s going on between you two, you won’t mind if I ask them out right?” OR just them hogging all of r’s time and being close to them and kissing r’s hands or lifting r into the air and just absolutely smothering her, but ITS EVERY SINGLE AVENGER IN THEIR OWN WAY (it doesn’t have to be immensely flirty but for some characters), and peter does not know why the fuck everyone is throwing themselves at r all but he of a sudden AND HE DOES NOT LIKE IT ONE BIT and reader is plain confused but enjoying the way everyone’s being so nice to them lately and it all leads to a “BECAUSE I LOVE YOU1!1!” with a flushed peter parker and him just heaving and catching his breathe after he says it

i adore this!! i had hoped to keep this under 3k but of course i ended up writing a full fic and jesus christ i need to learn how to compress anyways here u go!!! thank u for this request <3

(un)requited infatuation

pairing: peter parker x avenger! reader

summary: peter parker is in love with you and he won't do anything about it. but if there's nothing going on between the two of you, the rest of the avengers are free to make their moves, right?

warnings: idiots to lovers, jealous! peter, swearing, really really brief insinuation to sex, a lot of horrible flirting, partial nudity (not sexual), a mini-argument between sam and peter and it's like 5% angst, and tall girl 2.

w/c: 6.4k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“you don’t think i want to?” peter groaned, rubbing his forehead with frustration.

“trust me, all of us know you want to,” bucky deadpanned. the 40s man in him was dying to slap some sense into the kid, but the post-soldier bucky knew it would be hypocritical, seeing as his love life had been smaller than a pym particle ever since he left wakanda.

“all of us know you want her,” sam sighed, slinging a heavy arm over peter’s shoulder, jostling him as if it would knock some sense into the love-stricken spiderboy. “and trust me, most of us do not want to know how much you want her.”

peter blushed. “i- i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

with his free hand, sam maneuvered peter into a tight hold and shook him vigorously. maybe it wasn’t the most elegant strategy, but they were avengers, after all. being all fighty and confrontational was their thing.

“listen up man, i’m actually going to kill y-”

“hey bucky, sam… peter?” you had that ever-present skip in your step as you passed by the trio, your signature bright smile melting peter just a little bit more. your chirpy expression only faltered when you saw peter, looking like a deboned fish, in sam’s arms.

“is peter, like, good?” you squinted, eyes flickering between the three men as you tried to figure out who had liquified the boy.

“yep! all good here!” peter squeaked weakly from sam’s arms, trying to stand straight and regain his dignity. you smiled awkwardly.

“great! uh, i’m glad you’re good. anyways… bye,” you grimaced, feeling a little disheartened at the way the three avengers had stiffened at your appearance. you were new to the team, but you’d made such an effort to get to know everybody and that made it hurt even more when you saw that bucky, sam, and peter still didn’t like you.

“i think that’s enough of our ministrations for today.” bucky pried peter from sam’s arms and patted peter on the head reassuringly, if not a little patronizingly. “you’ll get the girl one day. even if that day is far, far into the future.”

as bucky and sam walked off, peter buried his face in his hands. fuck you! he’d been infatuated with you since you first arrived, and watching how quickly you’d bonded with the rest of the team, seeing you in action, and being on the receiving end of your kindness had only intensified his feelings. unfortunately, he only seemed to get worse and worse at interacting with you the more and more he fell. it wasn’t his fault that you were so pretty, and clever, and brave, and thoughtful, and-

from afar, bucky and sam watched as peter drowned in his incompetency. the two of them had been unsuccessfully playing matchmaker for peter since they’d realized his feelings for you—which didn’t take long; the boy wasn’t exactly subtle or good at keeping secrets—and they were fuming.

“i think it’s time to pull out the big guns,” bucky declared, locking eyes with sam, who steeled his jaw in determination and nodded forcefully.

“seconded, brother. tomorrow. at sunrise. operation idiot is officially in play.”

--

“hey doll,” bucky smiled at you charmingly as you rubbed your eyes to rid yourself of any sleep crust and scratched your arm. you hummed at him in half hearted greeting, not conscious enough to recognize (much less reciprocate) his flirting.

you yawned, opening a cabinet to search for the new mug you may or may not have purchased just to piss tony off. of course. he’d placed it on the highest shelf, at the very back, thinking you wouldn’t bother digging around to find it. well, he was fucking wrong.

(the mug. at least, it's my depiction of the mug. u can imagine ur own of course)

you hoised one foot over the countertop to try and find some footing as you jumped up, grounding yourself on your knees and steadying yourself on the marble. bucky chuckled, watching you struggle. he came up from behind you, tugging down at your oversized sleep shirt and making you jump in surprise. you whipped your head around only to find yourself face-to-face with his chest.

“bucky, what the fuck are you doing?” you mumbled, making no effort to push him away. you were too uncaffinated to deal with his antics.

“just being a gentleman.” you seated yourself fully, legs dangling over the counter as you leaned into the warmth of bucky’s chest. even this early in the morning, he smelled like his woodsy cologne and you were tempted to bury your head in his henley and continue sleeping. it was pointless to entertain that daydream. steve scheduled a mandatory training session for 6:15, not thinking much of the time, because he, unlike you, was a morning person.

you could hear the slow trickle of other grumpy avengers shuffle their way into the kitchen. your line of sight was squarely blocked by bucky, and you figured since you weren’t able to see anything anyways, it wouldn’t hurt to close your eyes for just a second, right?

“by the way, your shirt was riding up. i didn’t think you wanted anyone else to see that,” he chided, searching through the top-shelf mugs for the one you were looking for. you could hear faint clicking before your forehead slammed into bucky’s chest and you dozed off.

“are you- did you fall asleep?” bucky cupped your chin softly, admiring your ability to sleep so easily. okay, fine. maybe he was a little jealous.

he set your stupid mug on the counter beside you and wrapped your arm around his neck so he could carry you off your precarious position. you were unaware of your surroundings, still contentedly asleep as bucky gingerly placed you on a couch.

“she’s out?” rhodey raised his eyebrows, sipping his coffee to hide his amused grin.

“yeah. pretty girl’s out.” bucky moved to stroke your hair, sneaking a glance at peter from his peripheral. his grip on the handle of his mug was so strong that bucky could see the veins peter’s forearms bulging. he stifled a laugh. he considered kissing your forehead, but he knew it was too early. the fun had just begun.

as more avengers congregated, the hushed morning whispers had turned into fully voiced complaints and the clattering of utensils as everyone scrambled to fuel themselves before training. you blinked blearily, waking up to the sight of wanda’s face smiling prettily above you. her red hair draped around your face.

“wan?” you groaned, pushing her out of the way so you could sit up and stretch. you slapped yourself a couple times to wake yourself up.

“you’re cute when you sleep,” wanda giggled, kissing your cheek. “you and me and nat should have a sleepover sometime.”

natasha waved you over from a stool at the island. “good morning, sleeping beauty.” she kissed the crown of your head and rubbed your back, looking right over you to make direct eye contact with peter, who quickly looked away. his jaw was clenched. 

“here, have some of my smoothie,” wanda cooed, cupping your cheek with a delicate hand. you mumbled you appreciation as she held her glass out for you; you sipped from her straw under wanda’s watchful gaze. her face was just inches from yours. 

“you know, we technically just kissed,” she joked, poking your cheek. you laughed, her teasing giving you a burst of energy.

“we don’t need any technicalities. you and me. sleepover. i’ll kiss you stupid,” you rebutted, snatching the glass from wanda altogether, slurping away.

the witch bit her lip as she and nat exchanged smug looks. though peter was pretending not to look, his thoughts were so loud that wanda didn’t need to put any effort in to read his mind. peter was furiously. wordlessly, he slammed his green juice on the table and stormed off to the gym.

“what’s wrong with him today?” you were too distracted by your drink to really care.

“i have absolutely no clue,” natasha shrugged.

--

you were half an hour in and you wanted to die and/or curse out steve. he looked perfectly fine even after lapping you twice already. he wasn’t even sweating.

you’d run four miles and a stitch had already begun to creep its way into your side. you clutched your waist, slowing to a jog as natasha made her way over.

“if you’re done running, why don’t we have some fun?” she watched as peter’s punching bag took a harder hit, spinning from the force of his punch when he heard natasha’s suggestive comment. you didn’t pick up on it.

“wanna spar?” you challenged, raising to your toes and getting in her face, moving side to side as if you were swaggering.

“you’re on, sweetheart.”

the two of you were frequent sparring partners. you’d been working together for so long that your matches were more like dances, and you’d gotten so familiar with each others’ patterns that it had forced the two of you to develop new moves and strategies. mutually beneficial.

you moved to wrap your hands, but steve beat you to it.

“allow me,” he motioned for you to sit down as he took your hand in his larger one. the two of you sat in comfortable silence, with the only noise being quiet conversations between breaks and the sound of pants and grunts from the other avengers mid-workout.

“you look beautiful today,” steve smiled, looking up from your hands to admire your face.

“i look like i’ve just run four miles and am about to pass out,” you countered, rolling your eyes. “and that’s because i have.”

steve laughed, even though what you said really wasn’t that funny. you furrowed your brows at him, confused. steve’s sense of humor was mostly dad jokes and outdated references. whatever; it wasn’t like you were about to complain about the supersoldier learning to loosen up.

when he’d finished with his wrapping, he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed the back. you blushed, having not expected such affection from the man who’d torturously forced you awake on a wednesday morning.

“now you be careful in there,” he lectured, wrapping his hand around your head to stroke your hair. you were in the direct line of sight of his biceps, and you couldn’t help but blush. “go easy on natasha. we both know you’re quite talented.”

you felt your face heat up even more and you prayed that your reaction wasn’t visible. “t-thanks, steve. that means a lot coming from captain america.”

peter had stopped punching to watch the interaction between you and steve. steve wasn’t known to be particularly adoring or play favorites among trainees, much less with his fellow avengers, so peter couldn’t help but feel a bubble of resentment swell in his gut. it wasn’t directed towards you, but to steve. peter was fully aware of your talent and ability in the field. heck, you’d gotten him out of tough situations more times than he could count. so what if he was bitter by the fact that steve was able to vocalize those praises to you while he could barely hold a conversation past small talk with you?

it wasn’t fair. you flourished under steve’s reverent stare and seemed to grow taller with each compliment he bestowed upon you. if steve had been interested in you before, why hadn’t he said something earlier? peter had recognized how incredible you were the moment he met you. it wasn’t fair that steve had taken months to reach the same conclusion yet still got the privilege of flirting with you when peter wasn’t even sure if you considered him to be a friend.

he couldn’t control himself as he watched steve held open the ropes and you ducked between them smoothly. he couldn’t help his trailing gaze as your thighs swiftly moved and as your back ducked between the ropes and he couldn’t help imagining what it’d be like if instead of the ring, your thighs were wrapped around his neck and wriggling as he-

nope. he cracked his knuckles, tearing his eyes away. he cursed his earlier self. he should’ve worn darker colored shorts. sam, who was being spotted by bucky as he lifted weights, set the bar down and kicked bucky in the shin. sam pointed to peter, who’d thrown himself into a concentrated haze of pull ups. his spider bite had made pull ups especially easy for peter, and today, he was moving twice as fast as usual.

“oh, he’s jealous alright,” bucky whispered from the corner of his mouth. he raised his eyebrows at sam.

“don’t every worry about it,” sam maintained. “i’ve got the perfect ending planned.”

--

the best part of finishing training was the promised movie night that you and rhodey had negotiated in. you needed a break sometimes, you’d argued, and movie nights were good for team bonding as well as an effective and entertaining way to relax after a gruelling day.

you lost yourself in a steamy shower haze as you brainstormed all the movies you were planning on fighting for that evening. you had originally been leaning towards a horror movie, just to spite steve, who was a strictly romcom fan, but after he’d doted on you in the gym and left you all flustered, you felt like you couldn’t do that to him.

humming a quiet tune to yourself, you went through your normal skincare routine and dried your hair, taking care to keep it protected after ​​it’d been in such a tight updo the whole day. you wrapped yourself in a towel, preparing to change into something more comfortable, before you realized you’d left your favorite set of pajamas in wanda’s room after your last sleepover. no worries, her room was only a few doors down from yours.

stepping into some slippers and into your undergarments, you shuffled your way over to wanda with the towel still tightly wrapped around your body. you weren’t particulary uncomfortable with wandering the halls like this; injuries were an inevitable part of the field and most of the avengers had seen each other in some state of undress when tending to each others’ wounds. it wasn’t inherently sexual.

“wanda?” you called softly, shifting awkwardly so you could knock on the door while still covering yourself. you knocked again, raising your voice.

“m’lady?” came a booming voice from behind you.

“aaah!” you shrieked.

“aaah!” thor screamed.

“aaah!” wanda gasped.

you’d dropped your towel, frightened by thor’s booming voice from behind you. you scrambled to pick it up as thor covered his eyes and dramatically lamented.

“my fine maiden, i have corrupted your modesty!” he boomed, spinning around with heavy thumps of his feet. you tried to comfort him, wrapping yourself up again. at this point, it didn’t really matter. what had been done was done, and you were thankful that you’d at least put on undergarments before leaving your room.

“thor, it’s fine, really, i-”

nat and rhodey stuck their heads out of their rooms at the sound of the god’s loud cries.

“how can i ever repent? a fair lady such as yourself should never have to experience such intrusive exposure!” he wailed. “‘tis my fault, m’lady! i have breached your privacy. this is an egregious act! how ever can i redeem myself? i offer my sincerest apologies.” thor dropped to his knees with a loud thud, eyes still covered.

“‘c’mon thor, it’s all good. we’re all good, okay? apology accepted. you haven’t, uh, breached my, um, modesty. my exposure is not… intruded?” you sunk down to his level and patted his giant arm comfortingly. “there, there.”

thor cracked open his fingers and peered out at your shyly. “really?”

“yep,” you said, popping your p and giving him one last firm pat. you turned to wanda. “can i have my pajamas? please?”

she ushered you into her room and slammed the door shut behind her as natasha and rhodey howled with laughter at the red-faced god of thunder.

--

“…and then, my towel dropped and thor saw me practically naked and he was bawling,” you wheezed, slapping your knee as the avengers around you howled with laughter at thor’s expense. his arms were crossed like a toddler having a temper tantrum, and you slid over to him so you could give him a tight hug.

peter froze, eyes widening as he took in the scene before him. he’d taken some time to clean his room and in the meanwhile, most of the avengers had already gathered for movie night and apparently, you and thor had found time to get naked. he wanted to die.

“it’s okay, big guy.” your arms were only able to wrap around half of his body, but his tense muscles relaxed under your touch. thor glanced over at bucky and caught his wink. thor nodded in understanding.

with a surprised squeak, you found yourself lifted up by two strong hands and placed onto thor’s lap. thor hugged you tightly from behind. “thank you, fair maiden. you are too forgiving. in asgard, you would be championed for your kindness.”

you tilted your head back to meet his gaze. he smiled down at you fondly and patted your cheek. peter, blood boiling, couldn’t bring himself to look away as he watched the two of you cozy up on the couch. he took a seat in the closest open space, which just so happened to be between sam and the end of the couch. sam pursed his lips to hold back his mischievous glee.

you were laughing at all of thor’s jokes. why didn’t you ever laugh at his jokes? oh, that’s right. because he never told any jokes in front of you, because he was too fucking nervous.

tony strutted into the common area, arms laden with bags of candy. he tossed them in the air and they showered the group, some of them hitting heads and some of them falling directly into open hands.

“over here!” rhodey called to you, waving a bag of swedish fish in the air. you groaned, but excused yourself from thor’s cuddles. peter wanted to sink into the couch cushions. all day, the avengers had been hitting on you, going so far as to do you favors and even give you special treatment that they’d never given to anyone else. it was as if suddenly, everyone had come to the startling realization that you were beautiful and incredible and priceless. peter thought it was unfair. he’d been the first to recognize that, but all of a sudden, you were surrounded by admirers who’d stolen you from peter’s lovestricken grasp. the fact that you were so kind to everyone who’d adored you today and had never taken advantage of all their efforts only made him angrier. you were so fucking sweet, and he wanted to punch you in the face because of it.

tony groaned. “don’t start this, rhodey.” he only smirked. you stood in front of rhodey with your arms crossed, a withering glare burning through rhodey’s face as you evaluated his bag of swedish fish.

“i am confiscating this illegal substance.” you held your hand out impatiently. “you are being charged with the posession and use of dangerous substances.”

rhodey popped another swedish fish in his mouth, chewing obnoxiously on the sticky candy.

“oh yeah? and what gives you the right?”

“i- i’m making a citizen’s arrest. this is a threat to public safety! your fumes are contaminating the air, and whatever this-” you grabbed the bag from his hand, “-is, it’s a menace. it should be criminal to enjoy these. god, peter could probably base his web fluid off of whatever’s in this candy—that’s how sticky it is!”

peter’s head perked up like a summoned puppy at the sound of his name, which did not escape the observation of sam and bucky.

“i- yeah! did you know i make my own web fluid?” he blurted to his own mortification.

“i do! it’s so sick, i don’t know how you managed to do that without using fancy stark stuff, it’s so genius! i wish i-”

“alright children!” tony clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. “movie time! sam, it’s your turn to pick out a movie.”

the room erupted in protest. 

“but that’s not even-”

“we’ve never taken turns before-”

“bullshit! you made this up-”

“what is sam blackmailing you with to get you to side with him?”

tony threw his hands in the air. “enough! my tower, my rules. and today, i say that sam gets to pick the movie.” tony sent sam a not-so-subtle wink that sam couldn’t help but snickering at. he grabbed the remote and flourished his hand towards the television for the dramatic announcing of his movie pick.

“ladies, gentlemen, and gods!” thor nodded, pleased. “may i present to you… tall girl 2!”

the reaction was immediate and violent. nobody was happy. well, nobody except sam and bucky.

--

half an hour into the movie, you found yourself intertwined with sam right next to peter, who had been trying his best to fix his eyes on the screen and being pitifully unsuccessful every time. you weren’t oblivious to the negativity radiating off of your seat neighbor, but he’d seemed to be upset with you for the entire day and you weren’t in a confrontational mood. you’d actually found yourself a little entertained by the movie, so when sam had called you over, you’d planned on falling asleep on his shoulder. now, you were holding your breath as you watched jodi humiliate herself in front of the entire cast. 

“pssst,” sam whispered in your ear. you instinctively brought your shoulder up to protect your ear from his tickling breath.

“what?” you hissed.

“i need to tell you a secret.”

“what are you, 12? why didn’t you tell me earlier? we’re in the middle of movie night.”

“i forgot,” he whined, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your flush to his chest. his face slipped into that dangerous combination of the puppy eyes and pout, and as he inched closer and closer to you, you felt yourself cave.

“fine, asshole. what is it?” you grumbled, taking both of sam’s cheeks between your hands and shaking his head back and forth in annoyance. sam swatted your hands away and motioned for you to come closer. you pressed your forehead against his.

to anybody else, the gesture would’ve seemed intimate. to peter, it wasn’t just intimate. it was like a knife to the chest. and having it happen just a few feet from him? that was a twist of the knife. hearing your soft whispers and watching as you caressed sam’s face was like pulling out the knife and letting peter bleed out.

to you and sam, this was a compromising position. not because it held any romantic or sexual significance, but because sam was fully aware that you would not hesitate to head bump him like you’d done last time he’d pulled you in close and tried to tell you a “secret” that ended up being him screaming into your ear. sam was like your irritating cousin that only visited on thanksgivings, but was also the only cousin your age and thus, the two of you were forced to get along. you had a familial bond, and the thought of being romantically involved would make the two of you gag. it felt incestual.

sam slipped a finger beneath your chin. at this point, peter wasn’t even bothering to hide his stare. his eyes were boring into the back of your head, and he prayed that the darkness of the room would hide his obvious jealousy. it did not. his face was very much illuminated by the brightness of tall girl on the television screen.

“what the fuck are you doing?” you whispered under your breath, careful not to breathe too forcefully and tickle sam’s face. he had thrown a mini-fit the last time you’d made that mistake.

“my secret’s about peter,” he hiccuped through his whisper, fighting the urge to break out into a full blown laughing fit.

“peter?” your voice grew higher and sam felt the tremor that ran through your body. he smirked.

“yeah. he’s right there though, so maybe we should talk about this in another room?”

you nodded. peter couldn’t make out anything you were saying, only that you’d agreed to something, and he prayed that it wasn’t about a hookup. fuck the bleeding out and slow death. sam was fully aware of peter’s crush on you—he was the one who encouraged peter to make a move—and here he was, seducing you right in front of peter’s face. he couldn’t tell if he wanted to kill sam or himself more. maybe sam first, and then himself.

“let’s get out of here,” sam said, louder in volume so that the people around the two of you could hear. a small chorus of ooohs and teasing points followed as sam took your hand in his and began dragging you away. you trailed behind him, shooting peter a nervous glance as your mind raced with all the possibilities of what sam wanted to tell you. was he going to warn you that peter hated you? that you shouldn’t sit next to him anymore? that he’d been acting so on and off with you because he couldn’t keep up the facade of tolerating you?

peter bit his tongue so forcefully he thought he might’ve drawn blood. he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to soothe his pounding heart, before jumping to his feet as well.

“sam, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growled, the insecurity of being overheard or watched by other avengers leaving his brain altogether as he met the eyes of the man who’d betrayed him.

“what do you mean, what am i doing? i’m just getting some fresh air,” sam shrugged nonchalongly. “hey man, are you okay? you seem a little worked up.”

peter looked at you apologetically for just a split second before he shoved sam in the chest and sent you stumbling backwards. you stood motionlessly in your spot as you took in the scene before you.

“keep your hands off of her,” peter seethed, poking sam in the chest with such aggression that sam was forced to take a step back. “you- i can’t believe you.”

sam held his hands up placatingly, shaking his head as if what peter was saying was unbelievable. “you never made a move. you don’t own her, peter. you keep saying there’s nothing going on between you two, so i figured it was fine to shoot my shot. unless there is something i’m missing?”

“no, we’re just fr- fuck, no! i-”

you scoffed, tugging on the back of peter’s shirt to move him out of the way. “sam, what did you do? i know you’re behind some sort of meddling, you little shit.”

“nothing, nothing! i was just going to tell you something and then spiderboy got all jealous and bothered.” sam rolled his eyes. “whatever. you guys deal with it. i want juice.”

the common area was silent with the exception of peter’s heavy breathing and a tall girl 2 musical number. you tapped peter’s elbow weakly.

“pete? why don’t we… go somewhere else,” you grimaced as you watched him struggle to compose himself and meet your eye.

“yeah. okay,” he sighed, dropping his head.

you considered taking his hand, but he seemed volatile and you didn’t want to risk agitating him more. instead, you walked in silence to your room as peter followed like a kicked puppy, eyes never leaving the ground.

you held the door open for him and in the darkness, you swore you saw him blush. the only light in your room was the moonlight streaming through your window, and the atmosphere seemed too intimate to break by flipping the overhead light on, so you tapped a small lamp in the corner of the room.

you motioned for him to sit on the bed. he hesitated before sinking into the mattress, dropping his head into his hands while he rested his elbows on his thighs. you sat next to him cautiously, not sure if you should say the first word.

you couldn’t tell much time had passed, but after what seemed like years of silence, he inhaled shakily and blurted, “i’m sorry.”

“i- you don’t have to apologize to me. probably sam, though.” you sighed, kicking your legs back and forth nervously.

“no, i’m- i’m sorry that i interrupted you guys. what you do in your private life is none of my business, and i shouldn’t- i had no right to get upset at you.” he paused, spitting out his next words as if they physically pained him. “or… or sam.”

“it’s okay, you weren’t interrupting much. sam wanted to tell me a ‘secret,’ apparently, and he was just being theatrical. i’m sorry if we disturbed you.”

“i-” peter scoffed and he wasn’t sure if it was because of how ridiculous he’d been acting or how painfully oblivious you were. “he wasn’t going to tell you a secret, he wanted to hook up with you. and i just- i saw the two of you leave and i was so angry.” he turned his torso to face you, and for the first time since his fight with sam, he looked you in the eye. “i don’t know if you know this, but you’re… you’re magical. in every way. and- and i always thought that about you, and i just think that- that you deserve the world.” he ran a hand down his face. “you deserve someone who really cares about you and i didn’t want—and i know it’s none of my business and it’s not my place—but i didn’t want you to be with someone that couldn’t see that about you. i know sam’s a good guy, but he never… he hasn’t been in a relationship in months and he’s not looking for one and i just didn’t want to see you hurt. i didn’t want you to be another girl he sleeps with and then forgets about. because you’re not like everyone else, you know? how could anyone forget about you?”

you stared at him, your jaw dropped. peter closed his eyes as soon as he saw your expression, his face crumpling with devastation. he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts and his mouth parted just slightly, like he was going to say something more, but then he pushed himself off the bed and moved towards the door.

you were outraged. “are you serious right now?” you snapped. “no. no, you don’t get to say all that and leave. sit down. you’re not leaving until we talk this out.” you stood in front of the door, quirking your head as if daring him to object. he didn’t.

when the two of you settled back into your previous positions, you sucked your bottom lip.

“sam and i, huh?” 

peter nodded solemnly.

“sam and i…” you snorted. “never. that’s never going to happen. he’s like, a sticky toddler brother. or the extended family you visit that you’re forced to babysit. god, no. we’d never see each other that way.”

peter was unnervingly still, but you could see his hands clench into fists as you spoke. you slowly moved your hand to hover over his fists, giving him the opportunity to pull away if he wanted to, but he didn’t. you rested your hands over his, prompting his fingers to uncurl and settle down.

“sam wasn’t trying to… he wasn’t going to hook up with me. he was going to tell me a secret about… about you, actually,” you muttered. this time, it was your turn to look away bashfully.

“about me?” peter marveled. he was pretty sure he knew what the secret was. fuck sam. if sam was going to reveal peter’s huge crush on you, he could’ve spared peter all the suffering and jealousy and just tell you outright.

“yeah. he never did though, because…” you trailed off, waving your hands around explainitorily.

“yeah, sorry about that,” peter said, scratching the back of his neck. he opened his mouth to say something at the same time you did. the two of you laughed it off awkwardly, and he swore his heart palpatated a bit when you insisted he speak first. everyone knew speaking first was the lesser choice.

“right. in case i haven’t made it really obvious and awkward and haven’t completely humiliated myself,” he sucked in a harsh breath and fixated his stare on his shaking foot to avoid your gaze, “i like you. a lot. i thought you were so pretty when i first met you, and i never meant to fall for you, but god, whenever i see you talk to the team and every time you save my ass on missions and every time you try and talk to me even when i’m being a cold asshole, i just fall more and more in love with you. and i’ve been so unfair to you—this whole thing is so unfair to you—because i’m just springing my feelings on you after having been so distant and it’s just that… you make me so nervous,” he laughed mirthlessly. “and you’ve got such a- a magnetic presence that nobody can resist and today i watched everybody finally come to the realization of what i’ve known this whole time, that you’re absolutely amazing, and i was so jealous because everybody else could express that to you and i couldn’t. and i know that’s stupid because it’s completely my fault for not being able to talk to you properfly, and-”

“stop. stop, peter- shut up,” you interrupted, grabbing peter’s face and turning it to meet yours. he shivered as your eyes flickered between his; he felt like you had looked right past his hazy nervousness and right into his heart.

peter grimaced, stomach churning, mind blank, and mouth dry. he couldn’t predict, for the life of him, what you were going to say. never had he pictured himself in this situation, so he’d never been able to overthink it and come up with every possible ending. so he just sat there.

you didn’t quite know what to say either. this was not a situation most people found themselves in. there was no precedent.

“i’m flattered,” you started, and peter winced hard. it was a classic frienzone move. “i’m flattered that you think that way about me because i think that way about you and i can’t believe-” you exhaled, shaking your head in disbelief. “this is so crazy. i- peter, you fucking idiot! why didn’t you just-” you tugged at your hair. “god, i’ve been so in awe of you this entire time and i didn’t say shit and you didn’t say shit and now this is where we’re at.” you groaned and threw yourself backwards onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. “i’m so mad at myself,” you mumbled.

peter was baffled. “i’m not following?”

“sorry, that didn’t really make sense, did it?” you propped yourself up on your elbows. “i liked you too, peter. well, not liked. i’ve liked you this whole time and i still do, and i was just too scared to do anything because you’re so smart and witty and everyone loves you and, well, you don’t know me nearly as much as everyone else so i thought you just didn’t like me because you’d never treat me the same way and i know i’m new and that changes the team dynamic so i just thought it was pointless to, you know, pursue anything,” you gulped at peter’s silence. he had clenched his jaw and was staring at the wall wordlessly and unmoving.

 “was i wrong? should i have said something? you still feel that way about me, right? please, peter. say something, please… peter?” you whispered, voice trembling. maybe you shouldn’t have called him an idiot. or swore at him. damn, you really weren’t good at being romantic, were you?

 he turned around, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy, and whispered so softly you almost thought you’d been imagining it. “can i kiss you?”

you blinked. “can you- yes, you fool! com’ere, asshole.” you scrambled to your knees as peter clambered onto the bed and you grabbed the fabric of his shirt and he took your jaw in his hands and he kissed you, oh that boy kissed you stupid.

it was all wandering hands and tight embraces and silent screams of “don’t leave me,” and “i’m here,” and “finally,” and you were breathless and mesmerized when he finally pulled away.

“peter…” you whimpered, and he moved so his back was to the headboard, extended his arms, and spread his legs so you could find a home between his body. when you buried your face into his shoulder and hooked your arms around his, you fought back tears as you cursed yourself for all the insecurity that’d held you back from being here, in his arms, for months. but you were in his arms now, and it felt like you were always meant to be there. your body molded into him, and this time, it was you who was boneless and melting into the arms of another.

peter rubbed your back, likely going through the same thought process, when you spoke up again. “you said you loved me.”

peter sighed, kissing the top of your head. “yeah, i did. is that okay?”

“it’s okay. i want to- are you going to stick around after this? because i want to be able to love you too, and i don’t know if your feelings have changed because so much has changed just now,” you rambled, “but if you’d let me, i really want to love you. i want to love you.”

he twisted his torso so he could meet your eye. “you think i’m going to leave after this? after i’ve been pining after you for months? never. you could never get rid of me. i’m here for as long as you’ll let me be. and if you could love me one day, then damn, i’d be the happiest man in the world.”

he ran his thumb under your eye to catch the tear threatening to spill over. you smiled wobbly at him and with a quick raise of your chin, you pressed your lips to his once more.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

i'm considering doing a couple mini-fics/drabbles of their relationship after this one-shot! thoughts?

mini fic: group hug drabble: you are in love

peter parker masterlist | main masterlist

taglist: (comment to be added!)

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @bambamwolf87

#peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker friends to lovers #peter parker x y/n #peter parker enemies to lovers #peter parker mutual pining

[beefromanoff]

Project Mockingbird Ch. 1

summary: Natasha identifies a girl who needs their help and makes a case to the rest of the team. the problem? the girl who needs the help was genetically engineered to oppose their friend.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

chapter list

________________________________________

Three Months Earlier

The team filed into the conference room at The Avengers’ Compound in their usual order: Steve and Vision (fifteen minutes early), Peter, Bruce, Wanda, and Sam right on time, and Tony striding in five minutes late. 

“I have to admit, when I heard you wanted to see me, I was hoping for more of a one-on-one situation.” Sam joked as he plopped down in his chair. 

“Keep dreaming, Wilson.” She shot him a side-eyed glance, a shadow of a smile on her face. 

The room held a strange energy, remaining unusually quiet as everyone waited for Natasha to explain the reason for calling the meeting. Steve and Tony had historically been the only ones to call official team briefings. 

“I found a girl.” Natasha slid a stack of folders across the table. 

“Hey, love is love. As long as I can watch.” Tony grinned. 

“Shut up.” She ignored him and clicked a button on her computer, bringing a set video footage to life on the screen behind her. “Her name is Charlotte Julianna Rossi. She’s 21 years old, according to her Drivers’ License. According to her birth certificate, she’s closer to 100.” 

The room fell quiet, Steve and Natasha exchanging a sobering gaze. The screen on the wall showed several clips at once, all featuring a pretty young girl. Her hair was different colors across all of the clips, some showing her with long, blonde locks and some showing a cropped dark haircut with severe bangs, others showing varying shades of red. 

“She’s hardly been on the radar until the past two years. In that time period, she’s been hospitalized seventeen times for injuries consistent with overuse and extreme fatigue. Rhabdomyolysis, kidney damage, severe muscle strain, dehydration, the list goes on. Every single time, she’s admitted in a critical state but checks herself out against medical advice less than 24 hours later.” 

As the team shuffled through the documents in front of them, putting pieces together, Natasha continued. 

“I found her because she made headlines earlier this year after getting kicked out of Team USA Olympic trials for women’s gymnastics. They tried to cover it up, didn’t want to get any questions they didn’t have an answer for. From what I was able to gather, she came out of nowhere, competed at the last National Championship meet as an unaffiliated gymnast, and won every event with a perfect score. The entire gymnastics community was up in arms about it. They tried to figure out where she came from, where she trained, but there was nothing. No record. Of course, Team USA begged her to come to the tryout, she blew them away. Somehow, one of the families of the gymnasts at risk of losing their spot got her kicked off for use of performance enhancing drugs. The thing is, there’s no record of her ever even being tested.”

“No offense, Nat, but we aren’t exactly looking to start a Cirque Du Soleil Troupe here.” 

“Tony, shut the fuck up and let me finish.” She gave him an austere look as he put his hands up defensively. 

“Since then, she’s won a dozen amateur MMA matches, three boxing matches, and won fifteen straight games of poker before being banned from the majority of Vegas casinos. She’s making her money drifting, picking up random things and kicking everyone’s ass at them. Clearly, it’s not without a toll, if you look at her hospital records.”

She clicked a button and the screen shifted, sending a chill down everyone’s spine. A grainy document had been scanned in, the HYDRA symbol emblazoned on the top of the letterhead. 

“Project Mockingbird. It was pioneered two years after the Winter Soldier project. Specifically, it was initiated only ten days after a record seventeen HYDRA agents were critically injured trying to contain their primary test subject during an attempted escape.” 

Wanda spoke slowly. “You mean…”

“Bucky.” Steve breathed out. 

“Right.” Natasha was solemn. “I didn’t want to leave him out of this, but I didn’t know how he’d handle it. I figured it was better to tell him once we have more information.” 

Steve nodded, brow knit together in concern. 

“Okay, so I think I’m tracking all of this, but if you could - just so I’m clear, what exactly does all of this mean?” Peter leaned forward nervously. 

Taking a deep breath, Natasha answered. “This is just a hypothesis, but I don’t see much wiggle room. It appears that when HYDRA was working on the Winter Soldier project, on Bucky…they had difficulties containing him. Controlling him. When it became apparent that ordinary agents couldn’t do it, they took to experimenting on others. Orphans, mainly. People no one would miss. Trying to create something…someone to be able to stand against him.”

She pulled out a chair and sat for the first time, regarding all of them seriously. “They had dozens of test subjects. The majority of them didn’t survive the initial round of experimentation. A few others suffered complications in cryo. She’s the only one left.”

“Forgive me for being so forward,” Vision spoke up. “But, if I’m understanding correctly, we have reason to believe that Ms. Ross, she was created to oppose Sergeant Barnes.” 

“Yes.” Natasha avoided Steve’s eyes like her life depended on it. “I believe that Charlotte Julianna Rossi was enhanced by HYDRA as a sentient weapon with the primary purpose being containment and control of The Winter Soldier.” 

Present Day

“Thank you.” Natasha gave a polite smile to the driver as he opened the car door for her to step out. They’d arrived at the Wynn, one of - if not the nicest hotels on the Las Vegas strip. 

She’d wasted no time after the mission was approved, spending the majority of the flight putting on full glam and finishing it off with the perfect red lip. Black cocktail dress, gold heels that caught and reflected all the Vegas lights, studded clutch purse with cash, lipstick, and a pistol. Tony had offered to book her a hotel room through his connections, but she’d waved him off. 

They’d be back in New York by sunrise. 

It didn’t take long for her to locate Charlotte. Though 8pm was early by Vegas accounts, the casino was lively. Natasha dodged several attempted pick-up attempts by drunken gamblers as she wove through the tables to her end destination: the high stakes room. A sultry smile paired with her low cut dress made quick work of gaining entry. It wasn’t unusual for beautiful women to be welcomed into the high stakes room. The only thing rich men loved more than blowing money was doing it in front of a pretty audience. Nat slipped into the intimate room, the air full of cigar smoke and jazz music. 

Seated at a small table was a pretty brunette, eyes dark with smudged shadow and lips glossy. A martini sat in front of her, completely untouched, judging by the lack of a gloss print on the rim. Charlotte tapped the table in front of her, signaling for the dealer to give her another card. She already showed a nineteen, meaning standard play said she shouldn’t hit. The crowd murmured, exchanging glances. In the betting circle was a stack of $1,000 chips that Natasha estimated to be around $20,000. 

To the shock of everyone but Natasha and Charlotte, the dealer flipped a third card to reveal a two of diamonds. Blackjack. 

Charlotte grinned, leaning back and relishing in the applause as the dealer paled and began counting out chips to pay her. Nat cracked a smile but immediately felt a jolt in her stomach. The dealer had given a nod to the guard at the front, who was now touching his earpiece and speaking softly. She couldn’t hear him over the music, but his lips read clear as day: She must be counting. 

Acting quickly, Nat stepped to the table, making herself wobbly and heavy lidded.

“Ohmygod, THERE you are,” she put a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder, who immediately tensed. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, c’mon, the girls are waiting with the Uber,”

She squeezed Charlotte’s shoulder and briefly broke character to give an urgent look, hoping she’d pick up on the fact that the drunk persona was intentional.

“Oh, look at the time,” She said in mock surprise. “It’s been fun, don’t have too much fun without me!” Her manicured hands slid stacks of chips into her purse, a few falling to the floor with wide-eyed spectators locked onto them. 

“Get yourself something nice, Gary.” She flicked a purple $1,000 chip to the dealer who fumbled to catch it. Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha saw two men approaching them from across the casino floor. She elbowed Charlotte, who tracked her gaze and clocked them immediately. 

Waving her arm, Natasha knocked the still-full martini glass onto the felt of the Blackjack table. The gin spewed across the cards and glass splintered on contact. “Oh, jeez, I’m so sorry, I really shouldn’t have taken that last shot,” She called the apology over her shoulder into the chaos that descended over the mess, linking her arm through Charlotte’s as she fumbled to close her small bag around the massive amount of chips. 

They slid out the door under the cover of the bachelorette party walking past, slipping right into the middle of the drunken parade. 

“What’s going on?” The brunette hissed through a fake smile, keeping the facade up. 

“You were about to get busted. I thought I’d help a girl out.” Nat said through her own plastered smile, eyes darting around the room in search of their next problem. 

“I know what I’m doing.” 

“I know. That’s why I’m here in the first place.” 

Charlotte side-eyed her as they walked through the casino, still covered by the herd of pink boas and giggles. 

“Stark sent you.” 

“No.”

“I’m not stupid, I-”

“He’s the stupid one. I wanted to come in the first place, it was him who thought the testosterone brigade was the way to go. We can get into that later, but right now we’ve gotta move. There’s two coming up -”

“Yeah, six o’clock. Two more probably waiting around the corner up ahead. If we cut through the floor, we can make it to the cashier before they get to us.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, impressed at how they jumped to the same wavelength. “You still want to cash out?”

Charlotte grinned, a wild gleam in her eye. “Duh.” 

A few minutes later, they’d steered the group of girls to the cashier and fanned them out so that each of the six windows had two girls standing in front of it. Each of them with roughly $4,000 worth of chips in their hands. They got through the exchanges in record time, leaving the bachelorettes in a flurry of drunken “iloveyou’s” with a stack of bills to show their appreciation for the help. 

“That should cover the rest of their weekend.” Nat smirked as they strode quickly to the lobby, positioning her body slightly in front of Charlotte so as not to draw attention to the thick wads of cash she was zipping into her bag. 

“I don’t know, I can blow three grand pretty quickly on my own, let alone with ten of my closest friends.” 

“I don’t think I want ten friends.” 

Charlotte matched her pace, the bag finally zipped. “I don’t even know ten people, I just thought it sounded good.” 

They reached the front doors, nodding at the valet who held the door open for them. 

“I have a driver, this way.” Natasha cocked her head to the front of the valet line, full of sports cars and sleek SUVs. Glancing over her shoulder at the casino, the men seemed to have lost them in the crowd. Charlotte weighed her options quickly, deciding that taking a getaway car with the Avenger was preferable to whatever awaited her if she stayed.

They slid into the backseat of the black sedan, breathing quickly from adrenaline. 

“You’re back so soon, Ms. Romanoff.” The driver called from the front seat. 

“It was getting stale, figured I could find something more fun.” 

The driver’s eyes crinkled in a knowing smile in the rearview mirror. Charlotte had a feeling he knew much more than he should, choosing to live in ignorance. 

“You hungry?” the redhead asked nonchalantly. 

“Starving.” 

_________________

The duo sat in a secluded corner booth of a dark bar. The remnants of two burgers sat strewn across the plates, a few leftover fries getting cold. Natasha signaled to the bartender for another round of martinis, extra dirty. 

“Who knew the best burgers in Vegas would come from a strip club?” Charlotte downed the remnants of her drink to make room for the new one. 

“Hey, I’m no stranger to Vegas.” 

“So I can tell.” She shifted to sit up straighter. “Do you wanna get into your sales pitch now, or should we wait for the drinks?”

Natasha remained casual, leaning against the pristine leather of the booth. “There’s no sales pitch. Just an offer. Take it or leave it.” 

“And the offer is…?” 

“Come with me. Back to New York. Live at the compound. Be around people like you.”

Charlotte shook her head. “There are no people like me.” 

“Spare me the pity party bullshit.” Nat leaned in. “I don’t know the specifics of your story, but I know enough to tell you that we are like you.”

Taken aback by her forcefulness, the brunette narrowed her eyes. 

“Enhanced individual? Pretty much all of us. Dark, twisty past? We’ve got ‘em. Done things we aren’t proud of? Goes without saying. No friends, no family? We have a very dysfunctional Thanksgiving of our own.” She gave a small smile. “Experimented on, dehumanized, controlled, stripped of autonomy? Specifically by one particular Nazi rogue science division?” Natasha changed her tone, speaking gently. “One of my very best friends knows a little something about that, too.” 

Charlotte tensed, eyes glazed as she stared into the dark room in front of them. “James Barnes.” It wasn’t a question. 

“We call him Bucky.” 

Chewing her lower lip, Charlotte seemed lost in her thoughts. A cocktail waitress interrupted with two fresh drinks, setting them down with a smile. Eyes still defocused, she reached out to sip the drink slowly. 

“I don’t think it’s smart.” 

“Why?” Natasha took a sip of her own. “There’s nowhere safer for you. The Compound is literally the most secure place on Earth, except maybe Wakanda, and before you say you’re worried about hurting someone there - don’t. We live with Dr. Banner, who you probably know as the Hulk. I’m sure you’re a force to be reckoned with, but I can assure you that even on your worst day you wouldn’t be putting us at risk.”

She spun the wooden stick adorned with olives between her fingers, thinking. “I don’t want to be an Avengers. I’m not a hero. I don’t want to fight.” 

“Then don’t.” Natasha shrugged. “I’m not a military recruiter. I just remember what it was like to be alone, scared. Unsure where to go or who to trust. I’m offering you a home and a group of people you can count on. Anything else is up to you.” 

Charlotte smirked. “You’re much better at this than the last three.” 

“Story of my life.” She rolled her eyes.

“So, what would happen if I said yes? Hypothetically.” 

“Well, hypothetically, I have a jet waiting at the private airfield. We’d go to whichever hotel you’re renting the penthouse out of, get your stuff, and fly back tonight.” 

“Why do you assume I’m renting out a penthouse?” 

Natasha grinned, biting an olive off the stick. “It’s what I would do.” 

Narrowing her eyes, Charlotte cocked her jaw. “I’m at the Cosmo.”

“Great choice.” She held her martini up, signaling for a toast. “How about this, we go out tonight. Do Vegas right. Do it big. If you have fun, you come back with me and try living with us. If you don’t have a good time, I’ll accept that I’m no better than the guys and go back on my own. We won’t bug you anymore, but the offer will always stand.”

“You know, a bet predicated on having fun in Las Vegas seems like a very unfair advantage.” She raised her own glass.

“I’ve never been much of a gambler.” 

“That makes one of us.” Charlotte grinned. “You’re on.” 

_________________

It was just after 4:00am when their dutiful driver opened the door on the tarmac. Heels in hand, two sets of bare feet walked up the steps into the sleek jet, Stark Industries emblazoned on the side. 

“I still can’t believe they kicked us out.” Charlotte rubbed her temples as she sunk into the white leather seat. 

“Well they don’t really encourage doing backflips off of the craps table.” Natasha sat down across from her. 

“Here I thought Vegas was the one place where anything goes.” She dropped her purse on the table in front of them, the thud echoing in the empty cabin. “At least we made out alright.” 

“I expect a cut for saving your ass.” 

“I’ll consider it.” 

“You like pancakes?” Natasha punched a few buttons on a screen embedded in the wall.

“Um, who doesn’t?” 

Grinning, the redhead slid her feet onto the seat, getting comfortable. “They’ll be ready in fifteen. Probably best if we get something in our stomachs besides tequila.”

“If I knew you were offering private jets and pancakes at four in the morning, I might have been an easier sell.” 

“What are you talking about? You hardly put up a fight.” She winked. 

“Whatever, you won fair and square. I’m just holding up my end of the deal.” Charlotte tucked her knees under her, relaxing into the chair as the plane ascended.

“We’ve got a couple hours back to New York. Eat, rest, and we’ll be there before you know it. If you aren’t up for meeting people when we land, I’ll sneak you to your room. You can socialize when you’re not coming off of an all-night bender.” 

“What, you don’t think I’d make a good first impression right now?” She joked, fully aware of her smeared eye makeup and tousled hair. 

“Au contraire, I think you’d make too good of an impression. I’m just trying to give the guys a fighting chance here.”

Giggles subsiding, Charlotte looked out the window at the pinpricks of light shrinking beneath them. The smell of pancakes and overly sweet syrup filled the air as a stewardess wheeled the food out towards them. 

“Natasha?” 

“Hm?”

“I’m glad you came.” 

She smiled, warmth extending to her eyes. 

“Me too.”  

#bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #avengers #winter soldier #winter soldier fluff #sebastian stan #avenger!reader #avengers fanfiction #the avengers

[littlelovelyspiderling]

Meeting The Real You (Chapter 9)

Chapter 1 -- Chapter 2 -- Chapter 3 -- Chapter 4 -- Chapter 5 -- Chapter 6 -- Chapter 7 -- Chapter 8

word count: 25,347

***CONTENT WARNING: MENTION OF SUICIDE***

___________________________

“What did I tell you?”

Peter shriveled a little, wincing as Stark threaded the suture needle in and out of the skin surrounding his still-healing bullet wound, face flushed behind his mask as he sat once again between his mentor and Johnny Storm, wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. Unlike Spider-Man, the Human Torch appeared to have no qualms being half-naked in front of others. In fact, based on his surprisingly racy modeling portfolio, Peter was certain Johnny’s superhero costume would be far more risqué if Johnny had any say in the matter. At the very least, he’d add some bold cutouts down his legs and across his midsection. Maybe some fingerless gloves or a gold choker around his neck. Meanwhile, from Peter’s perspective, the less skin he was showing, the better—especially since he was always in the mindset of trying to keep his secret identity under wraps. 

“Take it easy. No web-swinging,” Peter eventually mumbled.

“And what did you go and do anyway?”

Spider-Man grimaced. “Swung from Washington Square Park to here. But—”

“No buts. You ignored my demands, and now we’re both paying the price. You know the rules, kid. After I’m done sewing you up— again —the suit goes in the lab and stays there for as long as I deem appropriate. Understood?”

Peter sighed. This was the agreement Stark and May had forced him to abide by until he turned eighteen. Tony had never kept the suit from him for longer than a couple days, but it still sucked majorly whenever he was made to give it up. It never failed to make him feel like a grounded pre-schooler. 

“I thought you tore your stitches when you backflipped for the livestream,” Johnny said with a frown. Tony went rigid, eyes rising to meet Peter’s, nostrils flaring. Peter wished he was close enough to the Human Torch to kick him in the shins.

“You did what?” Stark snapped.

“You told me you didn’t web-swing today!” Johnny exclaimed. 

“Johnny!” Peter cried, exasperated. “You said you’d take the heat for this, not get me in trouble even more!”

“That was before I knew you lied to me!”

“Can it, you two,” Tony interjected, piercing Peter’s skin a tad less gently, making the young hero flinch. “You heard me. Suit. Lab. End of discussion.”

Peter sulked in defeat. How was he ever going to take down Kingpin when his mentor kept treating him like a goddamn five-year-old? Eighteen could not come fast enough. 

Johnny shot a glare in Peter’s direction, then exhaled slowly, placing his hands on his hips. “Mr. Stark, it’s clear that Spidey was a massive fuck-up today.”

“Hey!” Peter protested, earning a sharp flick from his mentor.

“Keep still,” Tony demanded.

“But if you take away his suit, he and I won’t be able to hang out anymore. If I promise to keep him from being a dumbass and hurting himself again, would you consider letting him keep it? Please? You know, one member of the SDS to another?”

To Peter’s surprise, Stark actually seemed to be considering his request. Peter knew how hard it was to say no to those big blue eyes paired with that pleading, innocuous smile, but still. Spider-Man wrinkled his brow, glancing between the two of them suspiciously.

“What’s the SDS?” he asked. 

“Shhh,” Johnny cooed, smooshing a finger against Peter’s lips. “Nothing that concerns you, cutie pie. You just sit there and look pretty while we work this out, yeah?”

Peter blushed in surprise, then batted Johnny's hand aside. “Why do you always have to be so damn condescending?” he asked, stifling a giggle.

“You swear you’ll keep him grounded until I give the green light?” Stark inquired hesitantly, stroking his thin beard.

Johnny beamed. “I can more than swear it,” he assured the Avenger, raising his hand and extending his littlest finger. “I pinky promise.”

Tony rolled his eyes and shooed Johnny’s hand away. With a sigh, he leveled his gaze on the young celebrity. “If he so much as splits one stitch—”

“Then I’ll rip off his suit and hand-deliver it to you myself,” Johnny assured him. 

Peter reddened as Stark knotted off the final suture in his side. “Please don’t,” the two said in unison. His mentor moved to stand directly in front of him and met his eye with a long, cold stare. Peter shrunk back, opening his mouth to try to say something constructive, but Tony shut him up by balling up the Spider-Man suit and chucking it directly into his face, muffling his yelp of surprise. 

“There. Happy now? Christ—I can’t believe how much of a pushover you’ve turned me into. I should’ve known how dangerous you two would be working in tandem to corrode my willpower and estimated lifespan.”

Peter untangled himself from the suit, then joined Johnny in showering Stark with proclamations and placards of gratitude. Tony simply crossed his arms and hunched his shoulders and muttered to himself about gray hairs and crow’s feet. Peter slipped his limbs into the floppy red fabric then tapped the spider symbol on his chest to shrink the costume down, cinching it to his narrow frame. 

“I promise I’ll be more careful,” Spider-Man insisted, rubbing gingerly at his side.

“Oh, wow—haven’t heard that one before,” Tony grumbled.

“You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Stark,” Johnny chirped, slinging an arm around Peter’s neck. “Spidey and I will lay low and stay grounded for the next few days. No more bullet wounds or backflips or web-swingings of any kind; you have my word.”

Tony dragged his hands down his face with a weary groan. “Sure. If you say so. Whatever. I seriously need a drink. FRIDAY. Whiskey. Now, please.”

“A rosemary tea with honey is steeping on your office desk as we speak,” the A.I. replied.

“Screw you, FRIDAY.”

“You’re the one who instructed me to make you tea anytime you requested an alcoholic beverage,” FRIDAY reminded him.

Tony huffed. “Screw you, me.”

The friendly arm draped across Peter’s shoulders suddenly tightened into a semi-threatening chokehold. “You’re welcome, asshole,” Johnny growled, sotto voce. “Thanks for lying to my face.”

Peter clenched his jaw, trying to focus on anything other than the feeling of Johnny’s perfectly toned arm muscles coiled against his throat. “I’m sorry, all right? I didn’t mean to. I was just…” Images of freckled skin bathed in summer sunshine looped like a powerpoint in his mind. He swallowed. “Er…distracted.” 

The corners of Johnny’s mouth lifted a little. “Well. Seeing how I’m now responsible for keeping you out of trouble, let’s not pull that shit again, yeah?”

Peter scoffed. “You do realize you’ve been the primary cause of all the trouble I’ve gotten into as of late, right?” 

“All the more reason for me to stop you from getting into more,” Johnny countered smoothly. “We’ve braved some of the most daunting situations two people could ever face together over the past couple days. Things can only go up from here, right?”

A loud ringing sound from inside Peter’s backpack bulldozed through their conversation. Peter pulled out his phone to find he had an incoming call—from May Parker.

“It’s my aunt,” Spider-Man stated, a small spindle of nerves scribbling up his throat. Immediately, he clicked the answer button, knowing better than to send her to voicemail. If she was calling because she was upset about something, always better to face it right away than to give her anger more time to stew. Hopefully it was just an update on how the convention was going, a quick chat about what they’d been up to, that kind of thing. Nothing to worry about. So long as he played it cool and didn’t mention being shot, everything would be fine. He held the phone up to his ear. 

“Hey, May,” he said hesitantly. “Uh, what’s up?”

“You were SHOT?” 

Peter flinched away from the speaker, his aunt’s voice exploding from the phone like a pipe bomb, skewering him with shards of terror. His eyes snapped towards Johnny and Stark; his jaw hung open, practically grazing the floor.

“I…I…uh…”

Stark spun away from him, marching towards the exit with his hands raised in submission. “This one’s on you, kid. I warned yah. Don’t come crying to me. You’re on your own.”

May continued yelling at him through the phone, forcing Peter to block the speaker with his hand for fear she’d start referring to him by name—followed by a horrifying string of New York-style expletives. While Spider-Man pored frantically over what to do, Johnny started snickering behind his palm. Peter turned on him in disbelief.

“You’re laughing?” he exclaimed. Johnny shook his head, giggling even more.

“Sorry, haha! It’s just—you’re Spider-Man, and you’re in so much trouble. All these people think you’re this evil menace, when you’re really just a kid getting grounded and scolded like every other teenager in America. If only they knew!” Johnny’s eyes brightened suddenly as he held up his phone. “Speaking of, should I be recording this?”

Peter grappled for the device in Johnny’s hand. “Dude! Don’t you dare!”

“Johnathan Spencer Storm.”

Johnny went rigid, his wide smile morphing into a grimace. Sue and Reed stood in front of the med bay doors, the Invisible Woman looking a tad red in the face and Mr. Fantastic tense and nervous. Although still drowning in fear from his aunt’s muffled shouts against his palm, Peter took a second to savor karma’s sweet sting. 

“Ha,” Peter taunted him, giving Johnny a light shove in the back. “Serves you right.” Johnny shrugged him off with a scowl.

“Shut up,” he grumbled. “I’ll come find you after I deal with this. We gotta discuss Spidey’s next big social media stunt.”

A crafty gleam entered his eye as Johnny said that last part. To Peter’s surprise, Johnny stepped forward suddenly and bundled him into a last-second hug, sending volts of electricity tingling through his belly. 

“Sorry about all this,” Johnny added softly. “I’ll be more careful the next time I post or talk about you and make sure not to mention things like you getting shot—which, by the way, better not happen ever again.”

Peter grasped for something cool and chill and witty to say in reply, but it was no use. The only thoughts his brain could articulate while pressed this close to Johnny Storm were warm and smell nice and me like hug and please never let go. 

“Sounds Gucci,” was the moronic buffoonery he eventually squeaked out. He wrapped his arms around Johnny’s back and held him tight: resting his forehead against his shoulder, breathing in deep, and soaking him in. This was the closest he’d ever get to being more than friends with him, so he had to relish every second he got.

“Johnny.”

Lanced with sudden bashfulness, Spider-Man jerked out of Johnny’s embrace. How had he forgotten about the two other superheroes glowering at them from across the room so quickly? Well, one glowering superhero, anyway—Reed Richards wasn’t staring at them with any animosity in his gaze, but rather a quiet curiosity. For some reason, Peter found this even more unsettling. 

“All right!” the Human Torch snapped, whirling on his sister. Tiny flames bubbled across his skin. “I’m coming, okay? Jesus!” He turned back to Spider-Man and prodded his chest with his finger. “Stay grounded until I get back. The two of us are in enough hot water already.”

A curt laugh escaped him. “No kidding,” Peter mumbled. A fresh bout of angry ranting erupted from the phone in his hand, making him jump a little and almost drop it. Wincing, Peter pointed to the cracked screen. “Sorry, I gotta—”

“Same,” Johnny sighed, jogging towards his teammates. “I’ll catch yah later, ‘kay? Good luck with your aunt!”

Peter nodded and waved. “Thanks. Write a nice eulogy for me if this goes as well as I’m anticipating.”

Johnny giggled as Sue corralled him through the exit. “Will do.” 

Once the room was clear, Peter reluctantly lifted his hand off the speaker, and was met with the verbal ass-whooping of a lifetime.

“—even listening to me? Are you trying to give me a goddamn heart attack? If you don’t answer in the next five seconds, I’m hopping on the next bus to New York and coming home this instant so I can ground you until the day I die and cram a baseball bat straight up Tony’s lying, irresponsible, egotistical—”

“May!” Peter cut in helplessly. “Please! I was in front of a bunch of people who don’t know my secret identity! I couldn’t say anything until they left the room.”

“Are they gone now?” she shot back, words sharp as talons. Peter bunched his limbs in close to his body.

“Yes,” he answered miserably.

“Good. ‘Cuz it’s explanation time, buddy. Now. Go.”

Peter pinched his eyes closed, wondering how he could possibly spell out everything that had happened since she’d left without sounding like a reckless douchebag of a nephew, or fully chucking Mr. Stark under the bus. He hung his head, slipping the Spider-Man mask off his face.

“I’m sorry, May. I should’ve told you. It all happened so fast, and I hate making you worry while you're busy with F.E.A.S.T. stuff. I’m on the mend now and hoped I could get away with not having to burden you with this.”

“A bold feat, considering your famous new friend’s affinity for talking about you being shot on multiple different live media platforms, and the fact I probably have more Google alerts on for your alter ego than all of your enemies combined.”

The depth of Peter’s stupidity drizzled over him like boiling coffee. The teen gave a cheerless laugh, palming his face in his hand. “Right. God. Really didn’t think this one through at all, did I?”

“No, sweetheart. You really didn’t.”

The pair marinated in a long stretch of silence. Guilt chewed through Peter’s guts like maggots. May heaved a weighty sigh from the other end of the line.

“I’m always going to worry about you getting hurt, Peter,” she insisted, voice stern yet brittle. “There’s nothing either of us can do to stop that. But what I absolutely do not need added to that worry is the fear that you’re keeping things from me. Do you understand?”

Peter cupped his wounded side, skin still stinging from the freshly stitched sutures. Her words carried far more bite than she could ever know. 

“Yes, May,” he said meekly.

“When did you even start hanging out with that guy? How did the two of you meet?”

Alarm plastered the walls of Peter’s throat. “Johnny? Oh, uh—just a few days ago. Mr. Stark invited his team to stay at the tower for a bit.” Immediately, he backtracked. “But please don’t blame any of this on them. Stark just found out about me getting shot right before you did, and Johnny protected me from getting hurt even worse. They’re not at fault here—just me.”

May’s voice came through pained and wobbly. “You promised me you’d stay safe and keep me updated while I was gone,” she said.

Shame tore into the young hero like glass. Peter Parker bit the inside of his cheek and tucked his free arm beneath his aching ribs. Just rip my heart right outta my chest, why don’t you? Nothing made Peter feel shittier than when he made his aunt cry. This was the first major test of their dynamic as super-powered kid and scared but encouraging guardian . Despite her uncertainty about it, May had agreed to let him continue fighting crime in her absence—so long as he kept her up to date on everything going on. And how had he thanked her for her unwavering trust and support? By betraying her the second the opportunity presented itself. What was he thinking, hiding this from her? He hadn’t been thinking; whatever loopy pain meds Stark had injected him with paired with Johnny’s zany teasing had made sure of that. 

“This business summit is turning into a shit-show,” May continued tearfully. “None of my presentations have gone how I’ve hoped, half my team isn’t here because of a strep outbreak, and I feel completely unprepared and inexperienced compared to everyone else. Now I come to find out my kid has been shot and didn’t even tell me?” A small sniffle escaped her. “Maybe I should just come home…”

His aunt’s words cut him to his core. What could he say to make this better? What could he do to bring the light back into her voice?

Peter thought back to that last time he’d scared and disappointed her this badly. It was before May had even known he was Spider-Man. He’d been so busy tracking down the Vulture and dealing with the aftermath of the ferry he’d accidentally split in two, he’d wound up ignoring her calls all day and getting home way past his curfew. He’d never seen her that upset before, and never wanted to put her in that position ever again.

How had he made things better then? She’d been pretty standoff-ish for the next week. He’d kept his head down, caught up on his studies, gave up on Spider-Manning since he was sans his suit for the time being. It was only when he told her about a certain Academic Decathlon captain he’d asked to go with him to the Homecoming dance that the old May he knew and loved finally showed her face again.

She’d always been embarrassingly invested in her nephew’s budding romances and teenage love life, despite how uneventful they tended to be. Few things on earth brought her more joy than hearing about Peter’s latest infatuations and offering him advice on how to win their affection. Now that she knew he was a superhero, that interest had increased tenfold. Fortunately for Peter, nothing of significance had happened since his short and tumultuous fling with Liz. 

Until now, anyway. Which gave him an idea…

“I’m so sorry, May—for all of it. I really messed up. I won’t keep anything like this from you again, okay? Just please don’t leave yet. You fought so hard to be there; you deserve to be there. Don’t let my dumbassery ruin this for you.” He licked his lips, nerves buzzing to a fever pitch. He just had to hint at it. He didn’t have to say who or when or even what . All he had to do was reference just enough to shift her focus from her nephew’s irresponsibility and the stress of the conference to Peter’s hot new heartthrob.

Was this manipulative? Probably. Stupid? Absolutely so. But if it succeeded in cheering her up a little, Peter called that a win.

“The main reason I didn’t tell you about what happened was ‘cuz…” Peter swallowed. “Because my head’s been all over the place, and I’ve been really distracted lately.” 

May paused to blow her nose before responding. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Distracted by what?”

Frighteningly familiar warmth spread like wildfire across his skin. Peter shot anxious glances around the room to make absolutely certain the coast was clear, then huffed out a defeated breath.

“I kinda…have a crush on someone…” he mumbled, blush crawling into his cheeks. He couldn’t believe he was already telling another person about this after having just confessed to Ned a few hours ago, but his aunt clearly needed the pick-me-up. Besides—it wasn’t like he was planning on coming out to her just yet. 

It was almost comical how well his evil scheme worked. When his aunt finally responded, all the exhaustion and sadness had been sapped from her voice, replaced instead with beaming delight. 

“What?” she exclaimed. “A crush? Oh my god! Peter! It’s been forever since you’ve had a crush! I’ve been dying for you to find someone new after Liz, and you choose to wait ‘til I’m shipped off to New Jersey to finally find one?” 

Peter giggled sheepishly in spite of himself. Although his aunt’s obsession with his dating life was patronizing at times, her enthusiasm was entertaining to indulge and incredibly contagious. He knew she was smiling the biggest, giddiest smile right now, and Peter couldn’t help but do the same. The two of them were so close and always spoke so openly with each other, it was easy to forget they had no actual blood relation.  

“Sorry. Believe me—this was not something I planned on at all.”

Technically not a lie, he reminded himself. Speaking vague truths felt better than outright fibbing. He vowed to be as honest as he could without digging himself into an inescapable hole.

“How dare you spring this on me while I’m supposed to be mad at you,” May chastised him, unable to shake the elation from her tone. “You know how excited I get about this sort of thing.”

Peter scratched the back of his neck. Damn . She sure caught onto him quick. 

“I was gonna wait until you got back,” he explained, voice tinted with mischief, “but it sounded like you needed to hear it now.” 

Also not a lie, he thought. It wasn't like he expected to keep her in the dark forever. 

“Well, don’t leave me hanging here, kiddo!” she said. “May needs details!”

Sudden uncertainty lassoed his tongue. How could he describe him in all his charming, wily, flaming glory without saying—well, him? It was possible Peter hadn’t thought this through as much as he should have.

“Uh—like what?” Peter stammered out, stalling for more time.

“Everything!” May pressed him. “When did this start, how did it happen, what’s the plan to get you two together?”

Peter felt a small flutter stir inside him. Should I just tell her? he thought, nervous excitement surging through his veins. Why shouldn’t I? What harm could it do? There wasn’t a universe he could imagine where May turned her back on him—no matter what he did or who he was or the kind of person his heart chose to love. She’d told him a thousand times over: she’d always be there for him. Plus, Peter hated having to lie to her. He’d already shattered her trust in him once; if he could find it in himself to swallow his fear and confess this daunting secret, maybe he could start to restore that trust, and prove to her how much faith and value he placed in their relationship. 

“We met pretty recently,” Peter ventured to say, nerves latching onto every word. “At Avengers Tower, a couple days after you left.”

True.

“You met as Peter, or as Spider-Man?” 

Sweat rallied between the palms of his hands and the fabric of his gloves. He switched the phone to his opposite ear and took a slow, shaky breath. Was he really about to do this?

“As Spider-Man, actually,” he said. “The two of us—we’re both superheroes.”

True.

“No kidding?” May responded emphatically. “How exciting! A superhero, star-crossed romance! I could see how that might get messy, though: mixing work and powers and secret identities into the already complex mayhem that is teenage dating.”

Peter croaked out a laugh. “Oh, for sure. I’ve already run into plenty of unanticipated drama because of it.” True. Now? Do I tell her now? “It’s all really new and kinda crazy. I’ve never dealt with anything like this before.” Also true. How do I wanna say it? I already did this once. Why is it still so hard? “I seriously doubt anything is ever actually going to happen between us but I’m—I’m really excited about it.” 

About him.

About him.

Just tell her the truth! Spit it out already!

“What’s this mystery superhero’s name?” May inquired. Peter sat stiffly on the medical cot, clenching and unclenching his fists. He gradually stilled his shivering legs. Dropped his shoulders away from his ears. Sucked his teeth to his lips. Shut his eyes. Set his jaw. Inhaled deep, then opened his mouth.

“Johnny. It’s Johnny Storm. He’s the person I have a crush on.”

Silence. More silence. An abnormal amount of silence. Peter gulped down hitched breaths, heart thundering like a freight train, the phone trembling a little in his hand.

“M-May? Hello? You there?”

A jumbled, staticky sound gargled from the speaker in response. Peter winced, holding the device away from his ear. A few seconds later, May’s voice garbled out of the phone in short, clipped segments, cutting in and out with only a few decipherable words finding their way through. 

“May?” Peter said again, nerves tearing at the seams. “Can you hear me?”

“—goddamn piece of shit, Jesus Christ,” was what he eventually heard her hiss when the connection was finally restored. “Sorry, Peter. My signal here is absolute garbage. I think our call got cut off for a second.”

“It’s okay,” he grated out, squirming a little in place. Another couple seconds passed, and he added: “Did—did you hear me? What I said?”

“No, I must’ve missed it. Go ahead, sweetheart! What’s her name?”

A cold feeling spread through the young superhero from the top of his head to the tips of his heels. He stared ahead blankly, ice trickling into his stomach. 

“What?” he barely managed to say. The word came out breathless and fractured. 

“The superhero girl! The one you said you have a crush on! You were telling me her name, right? Or did that part of our conversation cut out, too?”

Peter could feel his heartbeat throbbing inside his skull. Two words pounded against his brain like a pair of rubber mallets. 

Her, her, her, her .

Girl, girl, girl, girl. 

She didn’t know.

Duh. Of course she didn’t know. Why would she? He’d never…he’d always made it seem like…

Still. He wished she knew. Part of him felt blindsided that she didn’t.

Maybe she didn’t know him as well as himself or Ned or anyone else thought.

“Peter?” his aunt called, ripping him from the thoughts racing around his head at a thousand lightyears a second. “Are you there, hon? Is the connection still cutting out?”

Peter tried to speak, but was stunned to find his voice choked with tears. They stung his eyes and wet his cheeks and slipped down his neck in large, pathetic droplets. 

It took him a moment. Many moments. But one by one, he forced his mouth to form words.

“I…I think it might be,” he heard himself say. Lie. He wiped frantically at his eyes, stifled a sob, cleared his throat. “Um, anyway—Mr. Stark is actually asking for me to come join him in the lab now.” Lie. “You probably have big, fancy business meetings to get to that are way more important than this.” Lie. “I’ll call you back later, okay?” Lie. Lie. Lie. 

Aunt May sighed. “All right, sweetie. Ugh—stupid cell reception. You know I’m dying to hear everything about her! I’ll need the full play-by-play once I’m home next week. I love you! No more getting shot and not telling me please!”

Peter hung up before the tremble in his voice became too obvious to hide. He let the phone slide from his fingers into his lap, then sat in silence in the wide, empty room. The chilly air of the medical wing felt even more frigid than usual. His mask was draped across his knee, the eye lenses speckled with droplets. The only sounds were the quiet sniffles slipping through his defenses and the soft patter of tears against shatter-proof glass. 

Peter was confused, angry, hurt—but why , he wasn’t sure. 

He was confused with himself. Why was he borderline weeping over this? Why was this triggering such a visceral emotional response in him? She hadn’t cast him out or recoiled in disgust or anything like that; she’d just assumed the same thing everyone else assumed about him: that Peter liked girls, and girls alone. That’s all. Once he told her, she would know the truth. Simple as that. Shouldn’t he be relieved? Coming out for the first time to two different people in one day was a lot of pressure to put himself under. 

So why was crying? Why couldn’t he make himself stop?

He was angry at his cowardice, his naïveté, at the tears staining his cheeks. He was angry he had to tell his aunt outright for her to know him fully, but at the same time mad at the unrealistic expectations he was placing on her. The anger inside him churned as hot and violent as magma. He didn’t know where to put it.

Most of all, he was hurt. It was the kind of pain that pinched your entrails and mangled your heart and made your throat feel like it was caving in on itself. He didn’t have a name for it. He couldn’t understand its intensity or origin. He wanted it to let him go.

“Spidey! You still in here?”

Panicked, Peter flew from the bed and faced away from the doors, yanking the Spider-Man mask over his puffy eyes and splotchy face. He grounded himself with as steady a breath as he could muster as Johnny floated across the room and landed by his side. 

“That went slightly better than expected,” Johnny decided, now dressed in his skin-tight, deep blue Fantastic Four suit. “I think my sister is finally sorta somewhat warming up to the idea of you. You’ve been upgraded from ‘masked menace’ to ‘masked hooligan’ at least, which is a start. How about on your end? Did your aunt really grill you, or…hey. Are you okay?”

Peter cursed himself inside his head. What was the point in wearing a mask when people like Johnny could read him like an open book anyway? He turned towards the Human Torch with a dismal chuckle. 

“I’m good, yeah. That’s great. Really great. My aunt’s not mad anymore, either. Maybe I’m better at getting people to like me than I thought. I bet it’s my eccentric wit and rock-hard calves and rugged, unbridled sex appeal.”

Johnny’s frown didn’t budge an inch. “You’re doing it again,” he said. 

Peter rubbed at his eyes through the lenses of his mask. “Doing what?” he asked sullenly. 

“You know what,” Johnny snapped, crossing his arms against his chest. “Drop the stupid jokes, and tell me what’s wrong.”

“Ouch. I thought the sex appeal part was at least kinda funny. Tough crowd.” 

“Spidey. Come on. Seriously.”

“Y’know, ‘seriously’ isn’t really my vibe at the moment. How about peanut M&M’s and microwave popcorn and Brooklyn 99 and ignoring our problems instead?”

“Spider-Man.”

Taken aback, Peter couldn’t help but giggle. “Was that you trying to call me by my full name? I have to admit, it was rather unsettling. You almost sounded like one of my super villains. Add a bit more growl to that last syllable, and you’ve pretty much nailed it.”

Johnny scoffed incredulously, shaking his head in disbelief. “Wow. This is…just wow. You done now? Is it outta your system yet?”

“Yeah, that’s not how it works. I’m like a goat. I’ll just keep going and going until I die. And the longer I go, the harder it is to stop. Speaking of, ever heard the one where a goat and a sommelier walk into a bar?”

“Webs,” Johnny implored, grabbing him by the wrist. The touch sent tingles up Peter’s arm and down his spine. “Please.”

Virulent emotion threatened to claim him once again. What was the point? He couldn’t tell him what was wrong. Even if he wanted to, Peter doubted he was capable of fully articulating it. 

With a desolate sigh, the masked hero yielded, but he selected his words with an abundance of caution. “It’s whatever, all right?” he insisted. “My aunt just…doesn’t know me like I thought she did. And it’s not her fault, but…I don’t know. It surprised me a little, since she probably knows me better than anyone.”

“What doesn’t she know about you?” Johnny asked. When Peter didn’t answer, he switched the question to: “Have you ever told her the thing she doesn’t know about you?”

“No…” he said hesitantly.

An endearing smile touched Johnny’s lips and shone in his cobalt eyes. “Spidey. You can’t expect people to know things about you without showing them or telling them those things. That applies to your aunt and everyone else in the world. If you want people to know you as you are, you have to open up to them and share the stuff that’s important to you.”

The deep ache inside Peter gradually fell away, and an itchy irritation crept in to replace it. Grumbling, Peter stared off to the side, shoulders and fists held taut. “Would you stop making so much goddamn sense all the time?” he fake-pouted, a small laugh escaping him. “Could you, like, not have the answer to every single one of my problems for once in your life?”

Johnny returned his laughter, giving his arm a light squeeze. “You make it too easy, Webs,” he teased him. “This is why I think this silly social media stuff is so vital to restoring your image. If you don’t take control of your narrative and tell people who Spider-Man really is, they’re going to keep making assumptions about you that aren’t true.”

Peter studied the soft sincerity in Johnny’s expression, debilitating fondness blazing through him. He puffed out his cheeks. “Y’know, you could at least pretend to think I’m funny while I’m running through one of my conflict-avoidant stand-up comedy routines. Humor me just a smidge before gutting me like a fish.”

“I do think you're funny,” Johnny corrected him. The hand holding Peter’s wrist tugged him the teensiest bit closer, sending butterflies racing up Spider-Man’s throat. While he had him distracted, Johnny’s other hand found Peter’s rib cage and gave his uninjured side a quick pinch, making the young hero squeal in surprise and leap away. “But I’m not gonna laugh when you’re making jokes to hide your pain.”

“Hehey!” Peter giggled, blushing bright as a tomato as he hugged his midsection. “Johnny! I just got re-stitched!”

Johnny grinned wide and rolled his eyes. “Ugh. I’m counting down the days until you can’t use that as an excuse anymore. Then we’ll really see who’s better at getting the other person to laugh.”

He feigned a few deadly pokes to Peter’s belly to punctuate his threat, causing Spider-Man to stagger backwards frantically, giggling like a little kid.

“Quihit it!” he squeaked. “Now you’re the one not taking things seriously!”

“Oh, I’m dead serious,” Johnny assured him, a sinister glimmer in his eye. Spider-Man reddened even deeper, arms clamped protectively around his torso. Johnny backed off for the time being, although the devious smirk on his face remained. 

“I’m also dead serious about cleaning up your rep,” Johnny continued. “And I know the perfect event to host our next media blitz.”

Peter grimaced. “An event?” he repeated back. He didn’t like the sound of this already.

“That’s right,” Johnny said. He pulled out his phone and held it up for Peter to see. “The Fantastic Four is hosting a fan meet-up and photo-op thing in Central Park tomorrow at noon. The event is free, but we’re requesting donations for pictures and autographs and whatnot to raise money for local animal shelters.”

Peter blinked at the screen. This must’ve been the Johnny meet-and-greet Ned mentioned earlier, he thought. 

“I thought Spider-Man could make a surprise appearance. We can take some photos, charm the crowds, do a couple interviews with whatever press is there. It’ll be fun.”

Peter considered Johnny’s proposal and swallowed dryly. “That sounds like a pretty big leap from me showing up on your TikTok, don’t you think? I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet.” Spider-Man scratched the back of his arm, voice small and shy. “I’d rather just…y’know. Talk to you some more. Without a bunch of cameras or other people watching. We can do more livestreams and social media stuff, if you think that’ll help. But…I don’t feel comfortable doing this sort of thing with anyone else except you.” He winced, realizing how that sounded. “I mean—not yet, anyway.”

Before Johnny had a chance to respond, Peter spun away from him, stretching his arms above his head. “Besides! I, um—already have plans at that time tomorrow. Thanks for the invite, but I don’t think the rest of your team would appreciate me showing up out of the blue and crashing their fundraiser. I might scare off fans who came to make big contributions.”

Johnny paused, then snickered, his freckled nose crinkling up in the most disarmingly cute way. “First of all, you’re adorable. I’m honored to be the sole confidant you’re willing to trust with your public relations.”

Peter’s heart skipped in his chest like a stone across a raging river. He wondered if Johnny spoke to all his friends this way, or if it was just him. He hoped it was just him. 

“I think you mean paranoid and violently untrusting of news reporters,” Peter chuckled halfheartedly. 

“Maybe. But mostly adorable.” He forged ahead without missing a beat. “Second, I guarantee people are gonna be wanting to see more of you after today. Go check out the now-trending hashtag ‘friendly neighborhood Spider-Man’ on all your favorite social media platforms. In the hour since we went live, the internet has already gone absolutely beserk with people sharing their stories about you.” Johnny held up his index finger pointedly. “Not all of them are flattering, mind you—but an overwhelming majority. Not bad for my first time doing this, I’d say. It’d be great if we could ride that wave of excitement by posting more content tomorrow.”

Peter couldn’t help it. He broke into a laugh, shielding his mouth with his hand, making Johnny narrow his eyes.

“What?” he asked amusedly. “What’s funny?” His cheeks hinted a light pink color. 

“Nothing,” Peter giggled. “You just sound a lot like your sister right now.”

Immediately, Johnny’s jaw dropped. “What? I do not! How dare you say that! That’s like—the biggest insult you could ever possibly hit me with!”

“You told me she’s the one who handles your team’s PR and whatnot, right?” Peter reminded him. “Isn’t that kinda what you’re doing for me right now? Making sure I’m putting out a good image and appearing likable and trustworthy and all that stuff?”

“This is completely different,” Johnny insisted. “Sue works with marketing agencies and consulting firms and giant corporate sponsors to bolster our team’s image. You and I are just making fun videos on my TikTok and Twitter and Instagram pages. I wasn’t planning to throw a bunch of money at this by hiring trend experts or data analysts or graphic designers or anything.” A giddy twinkle flashed in his eyes. “Unless—did you want to do that, or—?”

“No, no,” Peter assured him. “Silly phone videos are much more my style. I’m just saying.” He nudged Johnny playfully with his elbow. “Maybe you and your sister are more alike than you think.”

Johnny’s scowl returned in an instant. “Go to hell, Webhead.”

For the second time that day, Peter was startled by his phone trilling loudly inside his backpack. Lucky for him, it was Ned this time, who was far less likely to yell at him or make him cry by accidentally pigeonholing him into compulsive heterosexuality. Not that he blamed May, of course. At least…he was trying not to.

“Popular today, aren’t yah?” Johnny noted.

“Yep. That’s what happens when the Human Torch gushes longingly about you on the Today Show and posts unsolicited pictures of you in your pajamas.”

As Johnny chuckled at his retort, Peter jabbed his thumb towards the elevator in the corner of the room. “I’m gonna take this on the roof. We can meet up after your fan event thingy tomorrow if you’re free then.”

The Human Torch met his gaze with a wickedly enchanting grin. “M’kay. Come ready to star in my next groundbreaking, fun-loving Spider-Man social media production. We gotta post at least once a day for the next week! No exceptions! And since you’re not allowed to do anything superhero-y anytime soon, don’t pretend like you’re too busy or have anything better to do! ‘Cuz I’ll know that’s bullshit.”

Peter offered him a two-fingered salute. “You’re the boss, Flame Brain. See yah!” He took a few steps towards the elevator but stopped suddenly in the center of the room, struck with a choice that rendered him blushing and paralyzed. There were a lot of things the request might imply, should he decide to follow through—nonetheless, Peter felt it was a necessary and inevitable progression for their relationship (both as friends or otherwise), and would allow for consistent communication between them. 

With all these divergent thoughts swirling around in his skull, Peter reluctantly made up his mind. He turned back around and strode up to Johnny, the words sputtering nervously off his lips.

“Could I—I mean—w-would you mind—?” He shook his head, took a breath, and tried again, extending his hand. “Just—give me your phone. Please.”

Johnny blinked at the masked hero bemusedly, then held out the device with a chuckle. “Okay…?” he said warily. 

Peter took the phone and navigated to Johnny’s contact list, anxiously but determinedly adding his number to the roster under the name “Webhead” along with all the spider-related emojis he could find. He looked it over, once, twice, nodded to himself, then handed the device back to the Human Torch, shoulders tight and voice a tad shrill. “There. Now you can reach me anytime you need for whatever reason—whether you’re being attacked by Russian mobsters or want to run any more embarrassing content ideas by me before posting them on the internet forever or if you’re about to supernova yourself into oblivion and need someone to come help you—y’know, um, not do that.”

Johnny studied him with a look of delighted fascination. He plucked the phone from Spider-Man’s fingers and grinned at the screen. “I imagine someone like you doesn’t give out his number to others very often—especially those who don’t know your real identity.” He glanced up at him with a blindingly sunny smile. “I’m happy you’re trusting me with it. I don’t take that lightly.”

There was playful, teasing Johnny, and then there was this Johnny: insightful, sensitive, and earnest. Both were equally fruitful at transforming Peter Parker into a puddle of melted goop.

“No booty calls on weekdays,” Peter joked shyly. “I’m a spider of class and dignity.”

The loud yodeling ringtone belted from his phone yet again, making Spider-Man flinch. In his distracted, excitable state, he must’ve missed Ned’s initial call. If his friend was this determined to get through to him, he must’ve seen Johnny’s livestream and the overwhelming online response and be absolutely dying to talk to him about it.

“You’d better take that,” Johnny suggested.

Peter nodded. “Right. Okay. Cool. Great.” The young hero turned and skipped across the room, floating on the high of his uncharacteristic bravery. He giggled to himself, then threw Johnny a wave. “Catch yah later!” He answered Ned’s call and started to speak as he stepped into the elevator, then second guessed himself. “Whoops. I shouldn’t—bad connection in there. I’ll just—” he skirted towards the doorway instead with a skittish laugh in Johnny’s direction. “—take the stairs. Yep. Uh, yeah, so...bye! Again!” 

Johnny watched Spider-Man’s nervous and clumsy exit with an air of intrigue. He’d learned those characteristics were indicative of his nature, and normally not worth making note of. But in light of the conversation he’d just had with his teammates, and the jarring words Reed had left him with, he was inclined to dissect the webhead’s behavior with a far keener eye.

When the masked hero was gone, Johnny revisited the chat between himself, his sister, and her boyfriend in his head, and felt the gears of yearning and possibility start to tick, tick, tick into place. Maybe there was some hope for the two of them after all. Maybe he wasn’t as delusional as he’d once thought.

“What’s it gonna be this time, sis? Another stern talking to? Benching me for the next three missions? A new curfew we both know I’m not going to follow?”

Susan responded by shoving Johnny’s Fantastic Four costume into his chest. “Put that on,” she demanded. “For future reference, Tide pods do nothing for blood stains. Baking soda and warm water is your best bet.”

Johnny reddened in surprise, then begrudgingly slipped into the freshly laundered suit. He’d hidden it after hours of failed scrubbing and soaking with a plan to try dry cleaning next, but as always, Sue was faster and smarter than him. He crossed his arms and furrowed his brow once he was fully dressed, avoiding both adults’ hard stares.  

“Was any of that blood yours?” Reed asked.

“No,” Johnny grumbled. “We punched a lot of kidnappers, so some of it could’ve been theirs. But 99% of it was probably Spider-Man’s.” The Human Torch leered at him. “You know, because he got shot while saving two kids yesterday? Did you black out during my whole heartfelt testimony this morning? Or are you convinced as usual that I’m just making shit up?”

“I believe you,” Richards assured him calmly. “We just wanted to make sure you weren’t injured.”

Johnny’s biting tone wavered. He glanced between the two of them, noticing the lines of worry in both their faces, then gingerly lowered his gaze. “I’m fine,” he mumbled, rolling his shoulder a bit. By now the ache from colliding with the pavement was nearly gone. 

“And is he?” Sue asked in a thin voice. “Spider-Man?”

Johnny scoffed bitterly. “Like you care.”

“We do care, Johnny,” Reed insisted. “None of us want to see anyone around here getting hurt. And based on the amount of blood we had to scrub out of your suit, it must’ve been really bad. I’m stunned your friend isn’t in the ICU after sustaining a wound that severe.”

A hum of surprise trilled within Johnny at Reed’s choice of words. Friend. He called him my friend. 

“We saw the police footage of the people you were up against,” Sue continued, shaking her head, eyes sharp with fear. “Those were some seriously dangerous men, Johnny.”

The Human Torch grimaced, waiting for the lecture to start. Susan swallowed, then exhaled through her nose.

“Listen,” his sister grated out. “I’m proud of you for stopping those thugs and saving those kids.” She spoke the words as if they physically hurt her to say. 

Johnny’s eyebrows crawled towards his hairline. “Really?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “Really.”

Johnny narrowed his eyes, then gestured to Richards. “Did he put you up to this?”

“No one put me up to anything,” Susan shot back. “I mean it. You were outnumbered by a very scary opponent, but you took them down and got the civilians out unharmed. Before I say anything else, I wanted to make sure you knew that.” 

Johnny was taken aback to say the least. His sister was not one to hand out compliments to him easily—especially in conversations that weren’t going to be broadcast as promotional content for the team. But he wasn’t ready to let her off the hook just yet. 

“In that case, you should be proud of Spider-Man, too,” Johnny retorted. “He was the one who got the kids out safely. And he saved my life!”

“Which brings me to the next thing we need to address,” Susan said plaintively. “You cannot go off to fight bad guys on your own without your team there to support you—especially bad guys of that caliber.”

“I wasn’t alone,” Johnny reminded her. Sue’s face twisted in frustration.

“And if Spider-Man did save your life, that means he put your life in danger in the first place. No 16-year-old should be off fighting psycho mafia child-traffickers armed with weapons of war they got from—god knows where, without their adult teammates backing them, or—hell, even knowing about it. Do you hear me?”  

Johnny gazed at his sister numbly. “How about two 16-year-olds?” he proposed.

Susan frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The Human Torch pursed his lips, then cursed himself under his breath. Spider-Man had shared his age with him in confidence. He doubted the webhead wanted him telling anyone else about it—especially other superheroes. But Johnny assumed one of the reasons Sue didn’t like them hanging out together was because she thought Spider-Man was a grown adult. Maybe if she knew the truth, she wouldn’t be so hard on him. Maybe a lot of people wouldn’t. 

It wasn’t his place to tell. But Johnny could already see the realization materializing across Reed’s face. An acrimonious breath escaped him. Too late now. 

“We’re the same age,” Johnny explained. “Spider-Man and I. We’re both sixteen.”

Sue’s eyes widened. “He—you’re telling me you’ve seen his face? You know his real identity?”

Johnny shook his head impatiently. “No, he just—told me. He’s told me a bunch of stuff about himself. The two of us have a lot in common.”

The crease in Susan’s brow returned in record time. “Oh. So you don’t actually know, then. You’re just assuming he’s telling the truth and taking his word for it? Do you know how shady that sounds, Johnny?”

“He’s not lying!” Johnny shouted, fire flashing from his fists. “And if you spent two seconds actually getting to know him, you’d know that! Why don’t either of you ever believe me about anything?”

“It’s not you we’re doubting,” Reed said gently. “It’s just…difficult for us to fully trust someone who’s so secretive all the time. Please understand that our only concern is your safety and wellbeing.”

“Is Spider-Man also the one who told you to make those insane accusations against Wilson Fisk on your livestream?” Susan asked coldly. “Is that another thing you just accepted as fact because he told you it was true?”

Johnny flushed, trying to conjure a sufficient response. “He…he told me those kidnappers work for Fisk,” he said reluctantly. “Spidey didn’t want me to say anything about it, but if Fisk is really funding a human trafficking ring while running for mayor, I thought the world needed to know how dangerous he is.”

“And do you have any proof that that’s the case?” Sue countered. “Anything at all that connects Fisk to those men you fought?”

Johnny tried to extinguish the flames creeping up his arms and fizzling off his scalp, but his increasing frustration was making it impossible. When he couldn’t find an answer, Susan scoffed, shaking her head.

“Wilson Fisk is a pinnacle of industry and influence in this community. He’s the only candidate running for mayor who’s directly voiced his support for the Fantastic Four and promised to work with us if he wins the election. If you’re going to accuse him of something that despicable, you better have fucking indisputable evidence before you open your mouth and make an enemy of one of the most powerful people in New York.”

Johnny swallowed, shame radiating off him in swells of searing heat. He hated to admit it, but Sue was right. Even if Fisk was guilty, defacing his name on his TikTok page with no proof to back his claims was idiotic and counterproductive to everything both his team and Spider-Man were working towards. He shouldn’t have spoken so carelessly.

“You’re going to delete the livestream,” Susan instructed him.

“I already cut the part about Fisk out,” Johnny mumbled. “Spider-Man made me.”

“And you’re going to issue a public apology stating you were misinformed on the situation and won’t be spreading unfounded conspiracy theories about public figures ever again.”

Johnny glared at his feet, hands balled tight at his sides. “What if I’m not misinformed?” he said quietly. “What if Spider-Man is right about him?”

“Then Spider-Man has a lot of investigating to do before either of you mention anything about it ever again. For now, you’re apologizing. The publicist will send the copy to you tomorrow to post after the fundraising event.”

A queasy feeling bled through Johnny’s insides. The idea of begging for forgiveness from someone whose henchmen were responsible for wounding Spider-Man so badly felt like such a betrayal to the webhead. If there was any way he could opt out of uploading that post tomorrow, he’d make it happen.

“I don’t have the time or patience to babysit you 24/7 right now,” Susan said wearily. “If you want to waste more time running around with that masked hooligan, I’m not going to stop you.”

“Good,” Johnny said smugly. “‘Cuz that’s exactly what I plan to do.”

“But I won’t tolerate you going off to fight an army of Russian mobsters without giving us a head’s up,” she clarified, “or making baseless accusations that threaten the integrity of our team. Got it?”

Johnny huffed, giving his sister a sardonic curtsy. “Aye aye, captain. Whatever keeps the stakeholders happy.”

Sue rolled her eyes as she turned away from him, marching towards her and Reed’s guest room. “Be at the great lawn by 11 tomorrow,” she called over her shoulder. “Don’t be late. And please look presentable.”

“That’s all you keep me around for, right?” Johnny hollered back. “Looking hot while I pose for photos and sign autographs and keep my mouth shut on anything that actually matters?” 

His remark earned a groan from his sister before she stepped into her room and slammed the door behind her, leaving Johnny quite pleased with himself for getting the last word in.

The Human Torch expected Richards to tuck tail after Susan like he always did, or request for the hundredth time that he cut his elder sibling a little slack. Instead, he stayed rooted in place, eyeing Johnny like a new species of amoeba he was studying under a microscope. Johnny regarded his sister’s boyfriend with a loutish glare. 

“Go ahead,” Johnny muttered. “Tell me again how she’s only hard on me because she cares and wants to keep me safe and blah, blah, blah…”

Reed shot a glance back at the door, then broke into a hesitant smile. “Actually,” Richards said. “I was more interested in discussing your little friend a bit more—perhaps without Sue’s well-intentioned but rather harsh convictions on the matter preventing you from speaking openly.”

Johnny blinked, caught off guard, to say the least. “Um,” he said, trying to track where he was headed with this. ���Okay?”

Reed placed his hands on his hips and tilted his head to the side. “So…Spider-Man,” he mused. “You like him, don’t you?” 

Tiny fires flared at the tips of Johnny’s ears. “I…what?” he stammered, voice cracking in the most heinously telling way. “Who told you that?” Reed grinned.

“No one. Call it an educated guess. I was sixteen once too, you know. Nobody at your age is as slick as they think.”

Reed Richards and Johnny Storm had always had an awkward gap in their relationship. Being his older sister’s on-and-off boyfriend for the past couple of years and now the co-founder of their superhero team tended to put a damper in their geniality. Reed tried his best to toe the line between being there for Johnny in the ways he needed without overstepping into attempted paternal territory, knowing well it wasn’t his role to fill. But showing an interest in his romantic life—and catching on to Johnny’s infatuation with someone when he was trying his best not to flaunt it—was, in fact, a first for him. Johnny found himself blundering for words, a growing blaze of panic catching fire in his chest.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Reed assured him. “But I’m convinced your sister already knows, and—unsurprisingly—does not approve.”

Johnny crossed his arms tight to his chest, giving a short, rigid shrug. “And what about you?” he asked. “What do you think?”

Richards smiled. “I’m surprised you care.”

“I don’t,” Johnny said immediately, then swallowed. “But…is it really that obvious?”

Reed chuckled. “Yeah. Kinda. I can’t say I trust the guy as much as I’d like to, but…no way he’s as crazy as the news or Susan is imagining. From what I’ve seen, he seems like a decent kid.” A smirk tugged at his lip. “And I can see the appeal. You’ve always had a thing for the mysterious masked rebel types.”

Johnny fought back a giggle, mostly at the thought of how excited Spidey would be knowing Reed had described him that way. But his laughter quickly turned hollow.

“And the kind that’ll never like me back,” he added morosely. Reed’s face fell, and Johnny’s shoulders slumped. “Sue says I’m just making the same mistake I did with Sam all over again, and I’ll only end up breaking my heart a second time. And it sucks, ‘cuz I know deep down she’s right, but…this feels different. He’s different. He’s just…ugh.”

Johnny scrunched up his features and clawed aggressively at his scalp, disheveling his rose-gold locks into a scruffy jumble atop his head. “Spidey’s just…he’s one of the most selfless people I’ve ever met. It’s like he’s completely blind to his own struggles and safety but hyper-aware of everyone else’s—which is really sweet, but also annoying as fuck. He sees so much good in the world and is so passionate about helping others even though so many people try to paint him as a villain. He knows how to make people laugh even at their lowest point: when they’re scared or confused or in pain. And whenever I’m able to get him to laugh, let me tell you…” Johnny chuckled to himself at the thought of it. “It’s like straight serotonin, the sound of it. Literally the cutest, most addictive thing ever. Nothing beats the feeling of when I get a big laugh out of him—which isn’t exactly hard, but that doesn’t make it any less fun.” 

The smile on Johnny’s face was so wide as he spoke, it almost hurt. “Spidey may seem closed-off and mysterious from the outside,” he went on, “but once you get to know him, you realize he’s actually the biggest goddamn dork in the entire world. He talks super-duper fast and has a crazy quick wit—especially when he’s anxious or dealing with something he doesn’t want you to worry about. He’s an insanely smart science nerd just like you and Sue and can rant about molecules and substances I can’t pronounce for hours. He puts on this quippy, confident front most of the time, but he’s a surprisingly shy and insecure person.” Johnny scoffed. “And despite it all, he still makes me nervous. Can you believe that? It’s infuriating. Johnny Storm does not get nervous; everyone else is supposed to get nervous around me. But I can’t help it. I’m like a blushing, bumbling idiot around him. I don’t think he knows the effect he has on people. I don’t think he understands how incredible and brave and inspiring he really is. I just want everyone to see him the way I do. Even if there’s zero chance of him ever liking me how I like him, I have to get the world to understand why Spider-Man deserves to be admired and appreciated and loved.” 

Johnny’s saccharine grin withered into nothing. “I won’t lose another friendship by forcing my feelings onto someone who doesn’t like me back. He means too much to me. So…” Johnny shrugged pitifully. “If I can’t be with him, I can at least give him this.”

When the Human Torch saw the expression Reed was wearing and realized how long he’d been carrying on about the webhead, he felt his hair crackle like a campfire. Richards and him didn’t talk much about stuff like this, despite Mr. Fantastic’s relentless and embarrassing efforts to deepen their flimsy bond. Why was he suddenly pouring his heart out and spilling his guts to a man whose mousy nature and nauseating devotion to his cold and callous sister had always made Johnny want to broil him like a Thanksgiving turkey? Reed blinked at the teen hero slowly, stinging sympathy lifting the corners of his mouth.

“Wowza,” he said. “You’re down bad, kiddo. How long have you known this guy again? Like, five days?”

Johnny dropped his face into his hands, steaming with embarrassment. “Shut up,” he giggled.

“And you really don’t know who he is?”

Drearily, Johnny shook his head.

“But…you still like him? Like, like him, like him?”

The Human Torch hesitated, then nodded, face still smothered behind his palms. Reed chuckled.

“All right. In that case, here’s my two cents: I can’t speak to Spider-Man’s character or his trustworthiness or—hell, if it’s even mathematically appropriate for you two to date. But what I can say is this: if you have no concerns or reservations about him other than your assumption that he doesn’t like you back, you may need to reevaluate your deductive reasoning skills.”

Johnny lifted his head from his hands, searching Reed’s expression with wide, dubious eyes. “What are you saying?” he asked. 

Richards shrugged, failing to stifle a knowing smirk. “Look, I don’t know what Susan or anyone else has told you,” he conceded, “but between you and me, I don’t think Spider-Man is straight.”

Johnny felt his pulse climb to a deafening thunder. He inched closer to his teammate, stuttering through a frazzled, nonsensical reply. “Wait, you—w-what do you—how—?”

“And the reason I think that,” Reed continued, clearly enjoying himself, “is because I’m very convinced he has a similar infatuation with you as you do him.”

“Hold on,” Johnny stammered hoarsely, throwing his hands in the air. “Slow down. Why are you saying this? Where is this even coming from?”

“As I’ve watched you two interact these past few days, his observable behaviors have not been unlike the very ones you’ve exhibited towards him, which clued me into your possible feelings for Spider-Man as well as his own for you. Between you and Nova, the mania was as evident as day a one-sided affair. But I’m not extrapolating that same conjecture from your current fixation.”

“Why do you have to say everything so weird?” Johnny whined indignantly. “Just tell me in normal-people words what the hell you’re talking about!”

Reed sighed. “You said you get nervous around him, right? It seems to me he also gets very nervous when you’re around him. Higher voice pitch, faster talking speed, restlessness, fidgeting, laughing excessively. I don’t recall Sam ever acting like that when you two were together. Pretty incriminating evidence if you ask me.”

“That’s just…how Spidey is,” Johnny tried to explain. “Y’know—an anxious, giggly, fidgety person. Plus, he’s like, physically incapable of making himself shut the fuck up.”

Richards smiled. “And you’re sure he’s all those things all the time, or just when he’s with you?”

Johnny bristled. “I’m…yeah. Pretty sure.” He paused to ground himself, combing his fingers through his hair, crushing his feelings of excitement and hope into dust beneath his heel. “Look. It’s useless, okay? Spidey already mentioned dating a girl before. He’s straight. That’s that. End of discussion.”

“Weren’t you a serial girl-dater all the way up until the sixth grade?” Reed pointed out. “Does that make you any less of the flaming homosexual you are today?”

Johnny grimaced. “Okay, first things first—don’t ever say anything like that ever again.”

Reed chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. “Fair enough.”

“Second, that was pre-pubescent Johnny. Spider-Man was talking about taking a girl to his school’s homecoming dance last year. He’s never mentioned anything about liking or dating guys.”

“It is possible he only recently came to realize his attraction to the same gender,” Reed proposed. “People can also be attracted to more than one gender. Just because he recently dated a girl or likes girls doesn’t automatically disqualify him from liking boys, too.”

Johnny stood very still as he flipped back through his carefully curated collection of notes on the wall-crawler, which adorned the inside of brain like an elaborate tapestry. He analyzed and shuffled and highlighted important subtext. He strung threads between moments and jotted down little comments beneath entries. Could Reed be right? Had he missed something? Was it possible that Spider-Man actually liked him back?

“I can’t make you any guarantees,” Reed added, tearing Johnny from his mental investigation. “And I won’t pretend I have any advice on how you should approach the situation with your sister or with Spider-Man. But if you like him, and you believe he’s as good and honest and—well, cute—as you claim, and the only thing holding you back is your fear of unreciprocated affection…” Reed smiled warmly. “I think you should go for it. You might be surprised by his response.”

Johnny’s stomach was in fluttering, queasy knots. He had no idea what to do with Richards’ insights. The man was rarely wrong when it came to scientific hypotheses or analytical geometric theorems. But as for his gaydar? Johnny wasn’t ready to enrapture himself with fantasies of what he and Spider-Man could be based solely on Reed’s fleeting observations. Reed Richards was no Chris Harrison when it came to playing queer matchmaker for his girlfriend’s little brother.

Johnny wet his lips and scratched behind his ear. “I’ll um…I’ll think about it,” was the reply he eventually settled on. 

Reed beamed, the corners of his eyes crinkling behind his glasses. “Wonderful.”

Red-faced, and unsure what to say next, Johnny spun on his heels to leave. But he stopped with a hand on the door, speaking softly without meeting Reed’s gaze.

“You really didn’t tell her to say that?”

Richards frowned at the back of Johnny’s head. “Hmm?” he prompted him.

“Sue. You swear you didn’t tell her to say she’s proud of me?”

Reed’s features eased into a pained smile. “Yes, Johnny. It took a little encouragement from my end for her to go through with it, but I promise it was her idea. Not mine.”

Johnny swallowed thickly. “You think she meant it?”

Richards nodded. “I do. And for what it’s worth, I feel the same.”

Johnny fought back a smile, then rolled his eyes with a melodramatic groan. “You’re both so embarrassing,” he lamented. “God. Don’t you have something mind-numbingly boring and gag-inducing to get to? Like—I dunno—winning the Nobel prize for discovering a new element? Fucking my sister behind the bunsen burners in Tony Stark’s bougie lab?”

Reed’s cheeks went scarlet. “I—I don’t—”

“Or are you doing it somewhere even weirder? Oh god, don’t answer that—spare me the details. Just please make sure you’re wearing protection; I’m not ready to be an uncle to your stretchy, invisible demon spawn.”

“Johnny!” Richards exclaimed, face fire-engine red. The Human Torch cackled maniacally as he rushed out of the room, a pillar of fire trailing behind him. With an etiolated sigh, Reed couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made a terrible mistake encouraging Johnny to pursue something romantic with a shady individual most of the world considered a reckless menace. His concerns about Spider-Man resembled Sue’s in more ways than one, but he knew the more they objected to the idea, the greater Johnny’s interest in the vigilante would grow.

More than anything, Richards wanted Johnny happy. And right now, despite Susan’s best efforts, Spider-Man was the thing making him the most happy. Based on his quiet surveillance, that happiness was fortunate enough to operate on a two-way street. Spidey really seemed to like him back—stumbling over his words when Johnny teased him or offered him a helping hand, bouncing up and down like a kid in a candy shop when the two were engaged in conversation, melting into the Human Torch’s embrace when he thought no one else was watching. Even with his face hidden, the web-crawler’s body language was implicating enough. He wondered if anyone else had picked up on it yet.

The logical half of Reed’s brain hoped the pair never crossed that line. The smaller, sentimental side hoped one day they’d be brave enough to try. 

“I’m so glad Johnny Storm said what he said about Spider-Man. About a year ago, I was out walking my dog Lola when her collar suddenly broke and she got away from me. I chased after her as fast as I could, but I was too slow to keep up. When she ran out into the busy street, I knew she was a goner. I was about to watch my best friend get hit by a car and die right in front of me. It was the scariest moment of my entire life.

“But before the cars got to her, a streak of red swooped in out of nowhere and snatched her right off the road. I didn’t understand what had happened at first, until Spider-Man dropped onto the sidewalk right beside me with Lola in his arms. I was a hysterical, blubbering mess at that point, but he was so kind and patient with me. He walked with me all the way to the nearest pet shop so I could get my baby a new collar, carrying Lola the entire time and chatting with me the whole way there. I was so embarrassed with the situation and how much my dog was drooling and shedding all over him, but he didn’t care. I’ll never forget what he did for me that day. I’ll always remember how nice he was, and I’m forever grateful for the notes list he airdropped me of all his favorite thrift shops in New York. Dude knows some super obscure but highly underrated spots! I’ve scored some of my best finds this summer thanks to his recs. I’d really prefer to gatekeep, but if enough of you ask, I’ll share the list he gave me in the comments.” 

“Listen here, Mr. Jameson! I’m not one for posting videos on the web too often, but I had to come on here to make sure you knew that Spider-Man is a sweetheart who stands up for what’s right! When me and my girls attended the Women’s March last October, we were met with a giant mob of anti-feminist counter protesters shouting obscene things at us and waving around all kinds of hateful signs and flags. They were making everyone feel very unsafe, and a lot of people were considering leaving despite really wanting to be there to fight for our rights as human beings. 

“To all of our surprise and delight, Spider-Man came swinging from the rooftops to our rescue. He started covering their repulsive signs with spider webs and even snatched the megaphone right out of their leader’s hands! Every time they tried yelling more horrible things at us, he would drown them out by singing ‘Run The World’ by Beyonce as loud as he could or blasting ‘God is a woman’ into the megaphone. It was hilarious! Eventually, the counter protesters got so frustrated by his schemes, they all left in a big huff, and we were able to finish the march in peace. Now, does that sound like a menace to you? I should hope not! Unless you fancy yourself one of those backwards-thinking woman-haters, you’d better start respecting Spider-Man for the darling young man he is!”

“I never planned to tell anybody this story. But with everyone sharing their experiences with Spidey, I felt like it was time to share mine. 

“Two months ago, I hit a low that felt inescapable. I looked at my life, my loneliness, the state of the world, my lukewarm relationships, my shitty job, the endless repetition of each and every day, and thought: this is really it, isn’t it? This is all I have to look forward to for the rest of my existence. I felt so heavy and weary and broken, and was ready to just stop feeling altogether. 

“I was standing on the roof of my apartment building when he showed up. My feet were poking over the edge, and I was envisioning what my body might look like once I hit the pavement. I didn’t know much about Spider-Man at the time, but when he started speaking to me, I remember he sounded a lot younger than I expected. You don’t anticipate New York’s public enemy number one to have a voice that reminds you of your 17-year-old nephew, y’know? And based on the way he was acting, I’m pretty sure this was his first time dealing with this kinda situation.

“He asked me if I wanted to talk before I did anything else. I admitted that I didn’t, and suggested he leave unless he wanted to get blamed for what I was about to do. I couldn’t see any outcome of that evening that didn’t end with me dead in the street, but that didn’t mean I wanted anyone to have to witness it—or worse, feel like they were somehow responsible. Even if Spider-Man was as rotten as the news said, no one—especially a kid—deserves that. 

“I told him again and again to beat it. He kept asking if there was anyone he could call, anything he could say, something he could do. I was getting flustered and impatient, and spun around to yell at him to leave me the hell alone. Guess I turned a bit too aggressively, ‘cuz I wound up tripping over my own feet and falling backwards off the roof. 

I dropped about six or seven floors down before Spidey caught me. He started dishing out a million apologies, insisting that was the exact opposite of what he was trying to accomplish, and I couldn’t help but laugh. As he carried me to the ground and placed me on the sidewalk, I kept laughing and laughing until I was crying, and eventually that crying turned into uncontrollable sobs. I think those couple of seconds of free-falling flipped a switch in me or something. There was this explosion of all these conflicting emotions going on in the moments before and after he saved me, and maybe that made me—I don’t know, actually see the finality of what I was doing or whatever. While weeping like a fucking baby, I started ranting about how much I hated my life and all the stupid shit that had gotten me to the point where I was ready to off myself. I must’ve sounded batshit crazy, but Spider-Man sat there with me through it all until I’d run out of tears and things to say. Kid’s no quack, that’s for sure, but he tried his best to help. He bribed me into talking to the suicide hotline people by trading me Dratini on Pokemon Go. I’d been trying to find one of those for ages, and that little bastard had three! I think being able to swing from place to place on that webbing of his gives him an unfair advantage against the rest of us.

“Anyways. All this to say, Spidey saved my life that day. He didn’t impart any profound wisdom that suddenly made everything all sunshine and rainbows. He didn’t make any vacuous promises that everything would eventually be okay in the end. He just stayed, listened, said some stuff that made me laugh, and reminded me of the small things that make me happy—things I can build on and am willing to stick around for to continue enjoying for the time being. He may not be a hero in everyone’s eyes, but he’ll always be one in mine. 

“So if you’re ever having a bad day and happen to bump into Spider-Man, make him trade you a Dratini on Pokemon Go. By now I’m sure he has, like, forty.”

The video started to play again, but Ned closed the TikTok app and his phone along with it, turning to his friend in disbelief.

“I didn’t know you saved someone from taking their own life,” he said in quiet awe.

Peter slowly looked up from the screen, then smiled somberly, hunching his shoulders to his ears. “Like she said, I had no clue what I was doing. Someone else could’ve helped a lot better than I did. I just happened to be at the right place at the right time that night. It’s good to see she’s doing all right.”

Ned slipped his phone into his pocket without dropping his gaze from Peter’s face. “No wonder Johnny is trying so hard to get you to talk about yourself more online,” he gaped. “You do the most crazy heroic stuff every night, and hardly anyone knows about it! Including your best friend! Why don’t you tell me or anyone else about things like this more often?”

Peter took a big bite out of his hot dog, squinting against the blinding June sun. “I don’t know,” he murmured shyly. “I mean—you heard what that lady said. She guessed I was a teenager based just on my voice. And now fifty thousand people have watched her video and are probably connecting the same dots. The more people talk about me and the more visible Spider-Man becomes, the harder it’ll be to stay anonymous and keep the stuff I don’t want the public to know about me from being discovered.”

Like, say, my insanely huge crush on the Human Torch? he thought with a prickle of dread. 

“I think there’s a certain level of anonymity you’re going to have to sacrifice in order to make people trust Spidey more,” Ned told him pointedly. “I’m not saying ‘take off your mask and show your face to the world’ or anything. But if you and Johnny and others start speaking honestly about you more often, then yeah, people might suspect that you’re on the younger side, and sure, more of your interests and quirks and insecurities may come to light.” Ned dunked his jumbo soft pretzel in cheese sauce. “But I think that’s worth it if it means more people being forced to acknowledge what a badass superhero you are.” 

Peter wiped the mustard from his lips with a napkin, followed by the sheen of sweat on his forehead with his sleeve. “You really think so? You’re not worried about people digging a little too deep as, y’know—more and more of me starts showing through in Spider-Man’s public persona?”

Ned giggled. “Personally, I don’t think Peter Parker is showing through enough. Just look what one person speaking truthfully about you has led to! Now there’s thousands of videos and posts out there that prove you’re a good person! Isn’t it great to hear people speaking kindly about you for a change? Doesn’t it feel nice knowing that all the citizens you’ve helped and the good you’ve done hasn’t gone unnoticed after all?”

Peter sipped thoughtfully from his lemonade straw. He’d been so overwhelmed by the enormity of the response to Johnny’s call for Spider-Man anecdotes, he’d hardly allowed himself to acknowledge the substance of the content being shared, and how flattering a picture it painted of the webhead—a picture he’d never before seen reflected in the media until today. Since donning the mask at fourteen, Peter couldn't recall a time when Spider-Man’s name and image had gone viral online for positive reasons. To this day, a relentless onslaught of Spidey hate-posts were still being churned out minute by minute. But for once, the supportive ones seemed to outweigh the scornful. 

Yes, it did feel nice, he decided. To an almost foreign and inconceivable degree. Despite remembering every moment with every person he’d watched recount an interaction with the vigilante, as he listened to them share their stories and shower him in words of gratitude, it still felt like they were talking about someone else. Not Spider-Man. Not Peter Parker. Not him. 

“To be honest, it all kinda feels a bit too good to be true,” he admitted. “Being endorsed by one of the most popular celebrities in the world I’m sure has a lot to do with it, and it’s possible people are only saying kind things about me in hopes of catching his attention or being featured on his channel.” He ventured a small smile. “Still, I guess you’re right. It is nice. Maybe not everyone views Spidey the way Jameson does.”

“Yeah,” Ned agreed, cracking a grin. “Maybe people actually like Spider-Man.”

Peter shrugged, forcing nonchalance despite the unfamiliar ring of warmth circling his heart, irradiating him with bright spurs of hope. “Maybe,” he conceded softly. 

“In fact, maybe one specific person likes Spider-Man more than everyone else,” Ned added with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. When Peter met his gaze with a clueless stare, Ned groaned, throwing his hands in the air. “Johnny! The Human Torch! You know, the guy going out of his way to tell everyone how wonderful and amazing you are? The dude putting his entire image and career on the line to prove you’re not a menace? The person we’ve been standing in the baking sun in this endless fucking line for almost four hours to meet?”

Peter blinked stupidly, then peered ahead at the long, wobbly queue of teens and college kids and superhero fanatics standing alongside children dressed in Fantastic Four costumes crying in their parents arms. About a quarter of a mile in the distance stood the tall, colorful pop-up booth that held the promise everyone here was willing to roast and sweat and hold out for: a few moments of face-to-face time with one Johnny Storm.

To their left were the three much shorter lines for the remaining members of the Fantastic Four. Ned had already made it through each of them to get his Funko Pops signed while Peter held their spot in the ridiculously lengthy Johnny queue. As usual, the fan favorite of the team was painfully obvious, which granted Peter a small nugget of relief. Despite his new association with the web-slinger, Johnny’s popularity seemed as intact and resilient as ever. He could only hope it would stay that way. 

Peter flushed a little at Ned’s insinuation and tried rerouting the conversation. “Do I have to remind you that you’re the one who dragged both of us here in the first place?”

“No. Just saying. You’re already reaping so many benefits of being the object of Johnny’s desire. Maybe if you put on the suit and made use of that irresistible Spidey charm, the two of us could skip to the front of the line.”

“I am not…” Peter started to retort, cheeks burning in the heat of the sun. But the look on his friend’s face verified it was pointless, so he scarfed down the rest of his hot dog with a line between his eyebrows. “I already told him Spider-Man wasn’t coming,” he mumbled. “Besides. I thought the whole point of this was for him to see Peter again, not Spider-Man.”

“Wrong. The point of this is so lowly little lay people such as myself have the chance to meet a few of our heroes in person. You seeing Johnny again is our secret special side mission, but let’s be real: you get to see him all the time! I haven’t met him once! Quit being so greedy!”

A quick laugh punched out of Peter, surprised and chagrined. “Fine, all right, I’m sorry. Do you really want me to abuse my Spidey privileges and jump you to the front of the line? If you’re seriously that upset about waiting, I could try—”

Ne waved him off. “No, no,” he grumbled, fanning himself with a handful of napkins. “I’m just hot and sweaty and impatient, and complaining about it loudly makes it a little less unbearable.”

Peter chuckled, combing his fingers through his damp curls. “That’s valid.”

The line scooched a couple paces ahead of them, forming a gap the two friends were quick to breach. Ned checked his watch again—the third time in the last five minutes—groaned, then bunched up all the garbage he held in his fists. 

“This is nuts! I could go through all three other lines again and meet the rest of the Fantastic Four a second time before we even get halfway through this one.”

Peter swatted at a fly buzzing by his ear. “Why don’t you?” he proposed. “Better than standing here whining at me for the next two to seven hours.”

Ned glanced back at him, a smile lighting up his face. “Why don’t you?” he counter offered. “This is probably your only chance to talk to all of them as yourself, not Spider-Man. Why not take a break from being a superhero and go be a fan for a change?”

Curiosity and uncertainty sparred in Peter’s chest as he turned to look at the three other queues. He hadn’t even considered meeting the other Fantastic Four members at this event. He didn’t think they’d have time, but now it was clear they had an overwhelming abundance to kill. 

Peter ran his thumb along his bottom lip in thought. Well…why don’t I? he wondered to himself. It wasn’t like he planned on revealing his secret identity to them anytime soon. It might be nice to meet them again as his regular self: a civilian and a fan, without all the baggage and presumptions that came with his spidery alter ego. During their initial introductions, he’d never had the chance to say the things he’d planned on saying or make the impression he’d wanted. This could be a kind of do-over for him—if only to satiate his neglected inner fanboy. 

“You’d be fine waiting here for me if I went?” Peter asked timidly. 

“Of course! You already did the same for me. I’m gonna keep moaning and complaining whether you’re here or not; might as well spare you the headache.” He dumped the handfuls of garbage in his fists into Peter’s unexpecting arms. “Plus, you can throw all this out on your way over there. Win-win.”

“Wow, thanks,” Peter deadpanned amusedly, struggling not to drop any remnants of their greasy snack haul. He stepped out of line towards the trash cans flanking the Thing’s queue. “Text me if you’re nearing the front and I’m not back yet.”

“Try not to get on Dr. Storm’s bad side a second time,” Ned suggested unhelpfully. Peter cut a frown in his direction as he dumped an armful of napkins and wrappers in the bin, then walked to stand in Ben Grimm’s line. 

It only took about thirty minutes for Peter to make it to the Thing’s booth. The craggy mountain of a man stood behind a table overflowing with toys and action figures and other Thing merchandise available for purchase. The wall behind him had all sorts of shirts and posters bearing his likeness pinned up along with the prices. “All Proceeds Go To Local NYC Animal Shelters” the sign above Ben’s head read. Peter swept his gaze across the overflowing piles and stacks of Thing memorabilia. He wondered if anyone would buy stuff like this if it were Spider-Man themed. Possibly—if only to douse it in gasoline and light it aflame as an effigy to their disgust.

“Well? Yah just gonna stand there and gawk? Or y’gonna come say hi?”

Stiffening, Peter lifted his eyes to meet the Thing’s. He had the harsh, beastly features of a man transformed into a weapon of mass destruction, more than capable of leveling several city blocks before anyone could slow him down. He’d witnessed the power Ben Grimm possessed firsthand, and had very nearly been squashed by it. But blinking within that brutal exterior were a pair of eyes begetting a gentle and inviting kindness—one that likely impeded most children from bursting into tears at the sight of him, and enough to ease Peter’s initial concern.  

“Oh, I—right. Sorry.” Peter approached the stand with a sting of urgency, not wanting to keep others waiting. Ben flashed him a grin that looked less like a grin and more like a grimace.

“What can I do yah for, kiddo?” the Thing asked spiritedly. “Photos? Signed trading cards? A T-shirt with my handsome mug on it? It’s for a good cause. All the money goes to lil’ pups and kitties in need.” He pointed to the giant sign above him in case Peter had somehow missed it. Peter hinted a smile.

“That’s okay,” he said, not seeing anything he could afford anyway. “I was actually hoping to ask you a question.”

Ben raised one rocky eyebrow and scratched his scarp of a jaw. “Oh yeah?” he said. “Ask away then, squirt.”

“What are your favorite and least favorite things about your teammates?”

Ben threw his head back with a hearty laugh. “Audacious today, aren’t we? You want the on-the-record answer, or the off one?”

“Just the truth,” he answered simply. The Thing smiled and nodded.

“The truth. All right, then. I’ll start with my good pal Reed.” He shot a glance to his right, where his friend was sitting one booth over. “My favorite thing about Reed is his passion for pushing science beyond its current limitations to solve the world’s biggest problems and help those in need. Coincidentally,” the Thing added with a snort of contempt, “that’s also my least favorite thing about him, since his obsession with progress and making new discoveries tends to get him and the people closest to him in a lot of trouble.”

Next, Ben turned to his right, where Susan stood about twenty feet away posing with a little girl dressed up like her. “My favorite thing about Sue is how much she cares about this team and how hard she works to prove our value and virtue to the world. No one advocates on our behalf more than she does, and she’s incredibly protective of every one of us. She truly views the Fantastic Four as her family.” Clouds rolled across his expression as his eyes fell to the grass. “My least favorite thing is how much pressure she puts on herself. She worries so much about the wants and needs of others, she winds up neglecting her own. If the things she plans don’t go perfectly, she beats herself up about it. If one of us makes a mistake, she feels like she’s somehow responsible for it. She was forced to grow up so fast and be a caretaker from such a young age, I think she’s kinda perpetually stuck in that mindset. I’d love to see her do something indulgent and selfish for a change.”

Peter blinked up at the superhero with curious eyes. Perhaps it was crass of him to think this way, but he was surprised to hear such a thoughtful and discerning character analysis come from the mouth of someone who was strong enough to tear a person in two with his bare hands. He looked towards the Invisible Woman and felt a small twist in his chest. 

“And as for Johnny,” Ben grumbled out, a noticeable irritation entering his tone, “oh, boy. Where do I begin with that one? Kid’s been the biggest pain in my backside since the first day I met ‘em. I can give you plenty of things I can’t stand about Johnny: his temper, his stubbornness, his complete lack of respect for authority, his mile-high ego. You know he once bedazzled the words ‘hard ass’ in the middle part of my back where I can’t reach while I was sleeping? Bastard’s lucky he can fly, or else I would’ve pummeled him to coal dust long ago.” He nodded in Peter’s direction. “He’s nothing like you. You seem like the polite, humble sort with a solid head on your shoulders. Johnny could learn a thing or two from a young man such as yourself.”

A coy chuckle floated from Peter’s throat. “So there’s nothing you like about him?” he prompted the Thing hesitantly. Ben crinkled his nose.

“Hmm. Let me think.” He gave his wide chin a few thoughtful taps. “I suppose despite everything I just said, I know for a fact that if it came down to it, Johnny would risk his neck to save me, and anyone else on this team. Even though the two of us constantly butt heads, deep down I know he’s a decent kid who’s been dealt a very crazy hand in life, and he’s doing his best to navigate it. So there. I’ll give him that much.”

Sounds about right, Peter mused with a smile. The teen stood on his tiptoes to try to catch a glimpse of Johnny above the heads of the people in Dr. Storm’s line, but he couldn’t find a gap in the tightly packed crowds.

“Did that answer your question, squirt?” the Thing grunted impatiently.

“What about you?” Peter said. “What are your favorite and least favorite things about yourself?”

Ben let out a cackle. “That’s an easy one! My favorite thing about myself is I have the power to clobber anyone who tries to hurt my friends.” He held out his hand and wiggled the four pudgy, sausage-sized fingers attached to it. “My least favorite thing has to be how huge and useless my fingers are now. I mean, just look at ‘em! Try scrolling on a cell phone or using chopsticks with these meat hooks! It ain’t happening.”

The security guard standing to Ben’s left cleared his throat and gestured sharply with his head, signaling that it was time for Peter to move along. Peter’s grin dropped as he straightened his spine.

“Right. Sorry.” He eyed the donation box on the table and dug around in his pockets for loose change. “Uh, thanks a lot, Mr. Grimm. Great talking to you. And good luck with the fundraiser.” Peter managed to scrounge up one quarter, three nickels, and a pair of dirty, blackened pennies. He gingerly dropped them into the jar and hurried off before Ben tried to sell him a Thing prayer candle. 

Next up was Mr. Fantastic himself. As Peter waited his turn in the shortest of the four lines, he watched the bright-eyed scientist act equally shocked and delighted every time somebody wanted to get his autograph or take a photo with him. Adults and children alike exclaimed in awe whenever he stretched his arms abnormally long to embrace entire families and friend groups for pictures. 

Peter saw a lot of himself in Reed Richards. Without their flashy costumes or supernatural abilities, the two of them were nothing more than science-obsessed nerds whom most of society wouldn’t blink twice at. Fame and notoriety outside the field of scientific discovery were never in the cards for people like them—until those things were thrust upon the pair by some strange endeavor of the universe with a terrible sense of humor. 

Outside of being a superhero, at least Reed had the Baxter Foundation to his name. Peter wondered if he’d ever achieve something like that. He could see his future self working at an institution like Baxter or Stark Industries someday, but he doubted he’d ever own his own company. Spider-Manning already ate up too much of his free time, and his number one priority would always be helping out the little guy. Unless he founded a company focused exclusively on that, he didn’t want any part of it.  

But that was for older Peter to worry about. Right now, present Peter’s only priority was being a fan and geeking out. 

“Hello there!” Reed greeted him as Peter stepped up to his booth. “Welcome to the Fantastic Four’s First Annual Fundraiser! How are you doing today?”

“I wrote my finals essay about you,” Peter heard himself blurt out with a little too much enthusiasm. Perhaps he’d underestimated how excited he’d be to talk to one of his idols as himself and discuss things he wasn’t able to mention as Spider-Man, since it would reveal he was in high school. Immediately, Peter cringed and reddened, giving his head a quick shake. “Sorry—your book, I mean. On aerospace engineering and astrophysics. I wrote a paper about it. ‘Cuz, y’know. It was amazing. And you’re amazing. I’m gonna shut up now.”

Reed chuckled cheerfully. “No, please—keep talking! I rarely ever meet anyone at these events who’s managed to make it through one of my baroque publications—or greater still, actually comprehended them enough to write an essay on their content. And at such a young age, no less! How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” Peter replied. Richards gawked.

“And you read all fourteen hundred pages of ‘Engineering the New Age of Aerospace Exploration’?”

“I’ve read all seven of your books,” Peter clarified, scratching his neck with a shy grin. “But ‘Aerospace Exploration’ was my favorite.”

Mr. Fantastic beamed brighter than the glaring sun overhead. “You’re kidding! Holy cow! The only sixteen-year-old I’m around on a daily basis spends his free time coiffing his hair for hours on end and antagonizing his sister. It would do Johnny good to see what other people his age are capable of accomplishing with some discipline and dedication.” Reed extended his hand, which Peter took timidly in his own, and gave it an eager shake. “Please tell me you’re planning to pursue a career in the field of science.”

“That’s the dream,” Peter assured him.

Richards pawed at his pocket-less costume in search of something urgent, cursed, then ducked under the table to scour the nooks of his abandoned suit jacket. He popped upright a few seconds later with a card between his fingers and a triumphant look on his face. He held the piece of paper out to Peter.

“Call me whenever you’re in the market for a job or an internship. I’d love to sit down and really get to know you and what you aspire to do with that extraordinary mind of yours, and how the Baxter Foundation might help you achieve your goals. And I’m very interested in reading what you had to say about my book.”

Peter lit up like a firecracker. “Really?” he exclaimed, accepting the card from him. “You actually—I just—thank you, Dr. Richards! That would be amazing. I’ve always wanted the chance to pick your brain on quantum particle physics and zero distance string theory.” 

“Even more reason to look forward to our conversation,” Reed said spiritedly. 

Peter slipped the card into his back pocket and ran a hand down the front of his T-shirt. “Now I’m kicking myself for not bringing something for you to sign,” he admitted with a giggle. 

Richards’ smile widened. “Whenever we meet to chat, I’ll bring you a signed copy of ‘Aerospace Exploration.’ How does that sound?” 

“Like I’d better buy a lottery ticket on my way home while my luck is this good.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Mr. Fantastic insisted, sending the teen on his way with a wave and a grin. “We’ll talk soon, yes?”

Peter nodded fervidly, even though he had no idea how or when he’d be able to make that happen. He didn’t dare meet up with him at Avengers Tower; too great a chance of that legendary intellect of his connecting the dots between the excitable teenager and the masked vigilante with the two in such close proximity. And technically speaking, Peter Parker already had an internship—with Stark Industries. It was mostly a cover-up for his time spent with Tony as Spider-Man, but it could still make starting a second one complicated. Perhaps he shouldn’t pursue that kind of thing with the Baxter Foundation at all, just to be safe. He was more interested in meeting with Reed Richards just to talk science shop anyway; working at his company might have to wait until a later date.

The third booth before Johnny’s had the most diverse collection of fans in line: chittering, giggly little girls next to men and boys who looked like they had a history of getting kicked out of baseball stadiums. As Peter neared the front, he peeked between the patrons ahead of him to catch a glimpse of Dr. Susan Storm’s table and fan merch, only to find it empty. Well, not empty of merch—there were enough hoodies, bobble heads, hats, and fridge magnets to fill a Fantastic Four memorabilia museum. But Sue herself was nowhere to be found. Perhaps she’d left for a break away from the mob of sweaty patrons. That’s what Peter figured, anyway—until he saw a floating pen autographing a child’s drawing all by itself, as if possessed by a ghost. Peter blinked, his brain not comprehending what his eyes were seeing. Then a hand suddenly bloomed into existence, holding the pen in its fingers, followed by the rest of the person signing the piece of paper. Visibility cascaded across Susan Storm’s torso and limbs, her head being the last part of her to regain opacity. The crowd ooohed and aaawed in amazement.

“There you go,” Sue said, offering the drawing back to the little boy. The kid squealed with excitement, bringing a smile to the Invisible Woman’s face that actually looked genuine for a change. The child’s parents thanked her profusely, adding a thick wad of cash to the donation box as they herded their offspring away. Only a few people left ahead of Peter.

“Can we get a group picture?” the men in front of him asked, looking a tad too eager for Peter's liking. Susan hesitated for only an instant, eyes darting between them, then nodded and stood from her chair.

“Of course,” she said, motioning the men forward. “Gather ‘round, folks.”

Whispering and snickering, the four guys surrounded the young woman. Two on her left, two on her right, two large hands snaking around her waist. Something prickly twisted in Peter’s gut. Once they were in position, Sue smiled for the photo, but with her jaw clenched taut.

“One, two, three!” the photographer called before snapping a string of pictures. The moment her obligation was fulfilled, Sue’s palms dropped to her sides, but the men kept their arms glued to her flanks. 

“Let’s do one more,” the shortest of the four men insisted, peeling into a grin that made Peter’s skin crawl. “This time, Susie dear, why don’t you make your whole body invisible except the parts that matter: that scrumptious ass and those delicious tits.”

The men cackled, including an awkward laugh from the photographer and a few nasty giggles from some people behind Peter. Shock collided with rage in Peter’s blood. He watched the fake smile on Sue’s face snuff out like a candle flame. Exhausted irritation dulled the blue of her eyes to an icy pewter. Her muted reaction indicated this behavior was something she encountered far too often, which lanced Peter with renewed fury. 

“You guys are pigs,” Peter snapped, stepping forward with his hands curled into fists. Susan shoved the men off of her with a look of controlled boredom.

“Ah, c’mon darling! We’re just messing with yah! Don’t be like that! We’ll make an extra-large donation if you do it! Ugh—how come bitches can’t ever take a joke?”

While Peter was debating which angle to punch his face from first, Sue turned towards the chortling men like a wolf cornering a wounded deer. She had the posture and cadence of a person well-versed in standing up to assholes like this on the regular. 

“One fun thing I learned about my powers recently,” the Invisible Woman said, face schooled into a blank expression. “I can create force fields inside other objects and expand them until they explode. It’s rather fun, actually. I’ve blown up water bottles, boiled eggs, mayonnaise jars, bricks. But you know what I haven’t tested it on yet?” Her eyes narrowed. “The human body.”

The men’s ugly grins wobbled. 

“I wonder what would happen if I expanded a force field inside your liver? Or your kidney? Your pulmonary valve, perhaps?” Her gaze flicked to the shortest man’s receding hairline. “Or maybe inside that balding head of yours.”

Tiny blue spheres sprung to life in the center of her palm and started swirling between her fingers in a smooth, threatening dance. She held them out towards the men as they spun and swelled bigger, bigger, bigger. “So if you’re interested in keeping the parts of your bodies that matter intact, I suggest you leave. Now.” The three force fields combined into one and shot forward, making the men flinch. The disk of concentrated power slipped underneath the donation bin and lifted it off the table; the box hovered to a stop right below the four assholes’ noses. “Be sure to leave a generous contribution on your way out. One big enough to reflect the scope of my phenomenal self-restraint.”

Slowly, shamefully, the men exchanged hesitant looks, beads of sweat glimmering on their foreheads. Then, grumbling to themselves, they began groping around for their wallets, averting their eyes from Dr. Storm’s menacing glare. 

Once they’d paid their penance, a security guard shepherded the assholes away from Sue’s booth. Rigidly, the Invisible Woman returned to her seat behind the table, forcing the ice to melt from her expression as she heaved a weary sigh. Anger spilled into sorrow at the hideous treatment Peter had just watched her endure. She’d handled it remarkably, leaving no space for anyone to believe that speaking to her like that was okay—but that didn’t make what happened any less demoralizing. On top of being a superhero, working round the clock to keep her brother out of trouble, and managing all of the Fantastic Four’s public relations, Dr. Storm was saddled with pressures that neither Peter nor her teammates would ever bear or understand. Perhaps her being expected to handle all those responsibilities in the first place was indicative of the pressures she as a female superhero experienced. Peter didn’t see Ben or Reed going out of their way to set up talk show interviews or put on events like this, nor were they likely to take the fall should those exploits go horribly wrong. And they certainly weren’t being publicly degraded by disgusting men. 

Everything she did—organizing fan events, advocating for her team, fortifying their public image, dealing with misogynistic assholes with poise and class rather than slugging them between the eyes like they deserved—it was all to protect her family. Including being distrustful of Spider-Man, he realized with a pang. Peter could relate to the proclivity to keep the wall-crawler as far from one’s loved ones as possible: he’d forged the identity of the masked vigilante for that very purpose. 

Even though they expressed it in different ways, there was one trait Sue and Johnny shared that was both their strength and their curse: how deeply they cared about things, even at their own expense. 

Susan cast her gaze across the busy park, gauging how the event was going so far, taking inventory of the attendees and the overflowing trash cans and the insufficient amount of shade, deducting what she could do to make sure everything and everyone was happy and taken care of. Peter could practically see the rapid-fire calculations running behind her eyes as he approached the Invisible Woman like a hiker tip-toeing across a frozen lake. 

“Hi,” he greeted her carefully. Peter watched Dr. Storm’s far-off gaze snap back into focus, eyes blinking as they jerked up to find his. 

“Oh—hello,” Susan said. Her soft smile returned, although it took a few moments to reach her eyes. She sat up tall and breathed with intention, reactivating her cheerful fan-service persona. “Sorry about all that. I hope I didn’t scare you. I probably could’ve handled that without threatening to blow someone up from the inside out.” She let out a weak laugh, face going pale. “Which I would never actually do, by the way. Oh god—why did I say that?”

“They got off easy in my opinion,” Peter reassured her. “I think they deserved a ruptured kidney or two. A couple popped blood vessels at least.”

Sue deflated in relief, glad she hadn’t scarred a teenage fan for life, then chuckled. “I like you already,” she decided.

“I’m…sorry they talked to you that way,” Peter said carefully. “It’s messed up that you have to deal with people like that.”

Dr. Storm did a quick scan of his face, expression gentle and welcoming. Much different from the hard scowl he was met with whenever she spoke to him in costume. Then she gave a nonchalant wave.

“It’s all right. Dealing with the occasional jerk just makes me that much more grateful when I get to talk to real fans like you.” Clearly ready to move on from the subject, she gestured to all the different trinkets and merch stacked across the table. “See anything you like? Do you have any pets? We have Fantastic Four dog toys now. My brother’s is currently the fan favorite, and it’s quite fun watching the pups chew on his face with such enthusiasm.” She squeaked one of the toys in her hand for emphasis. 

Peter smiled at the Human Torch plush, which had little felt flames poking out of its hair. “Johnny is really lucky to have a sister like you,” he thought out loud. He wasn’t sure if what he was about to say would cross some unspoken Susan Storm boundary, but he continued anyway. “It’s really inspiring to me—how you stepped up to take care of him after going through so much loss. Most people aren’t capable of that kind of strength or bravery.” He lowered his gaze, scratching at his forearm. “I was raised by a family member who stepped in to help after I lost my parents, too. I’ve spent the last decade watching her struggle and make sacrifices to shape me into a good person and give me a happy life. She never wanted kids, but she took me in and treated me as her own without hesitation. What she’s done for me—and what you’ve done for Johnny—I think it’s one of the most selfless and heroic things a person can do. I’ll never be able to repay the debt I owe her, but it’s people like you and her who make me want to dedicate my life to helping others.” He bit the inside of his cheek and shrugged. “I just…wanted you to know that.”

When Peter’s gaze lifted to Sue’s after his soapbox was complete, he was startled to find her eyes flooded with tears. She and Johnny really were a lot more alike than either of them wanted to admit. The Invisible Woman pressed a finger to a droplet on her cheek with a look of disbelief, as if she, too, was shocked by her reaction. Peter swallowed, skin flushing with regret. 

“I—I’m sorry, Dr. Storm. I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to make you—”

“It’s okay,” she laughed in a broken, watery voice. “I’m okay, really. I don’t know what’s come over me. That just—” She dabbed frantically under her eyes, trying her best not to smear her makeup. “— really caught me by surprise. Phew. I just—I always feel like I’m failing him, y’know? Like I have no clue what the hell I’m doing, like everything I say just drives a larger wedge between us. Like maybe I should’ve read a book or a manual on parenthood or being an older sibling and a parent at the same time or something, but…” She sniffled, fighting to resurrect her stoic mask of strength and impenetrability. “But…um…thank you. That was…very kind of you to say.”

“Of course,” Peter said with a cautious smile. Ben was right: Susan Storm put way too much pressure on herself, and clearly deserved far more recognition for her altruistic spirit than Peter or anyone else awarded her. It felt good to do something that made her feel appreciated for once, instead of apprehensive and pissed off. Even if she never warmed up to Spider-Man, Peter didn’t have the heart to hold it against her. Her disapproval was derived not from malice, but from the need to protect the person they both cared so much about. He shifted his weight between his feet. “Unrelated, but I’m also super invested in your research on the molecular mechanisms of microbial life forms that allow certain species to survive in outer space. Are you planning to conduct any new experiments soon?”

Dr. Storm stared at him like he had grown a second head. “How do you know about that?” she asked bewilderedly. 

Peter frowned. “Wasn’t that one of the things you were researching during your space mission in February? Y’know—before the particle cloud hit?”

Sue scoffed. “Yes, but hardly anyone knows about it. With Reed’s research on hyperspace travel being the mission’s primary objective and everything that followed after the cosmic rays struck our starship, my little passion project on microorganisms in space was understandably overshadowed.” 

“Well, I liked it,” Peter countered with a grin. “Your experiments with the ways the outer space environment can affect microbes’ cell metabolism, proliferation rate, cell motility, virulence, and biofilm production were fascinating, especially the parts evidencing the resilience of extremophilic microbial species. If you do decide to continue your research, know that you’ll be making one very nerdy fan who spends way too much time scouring through biochemistry news forums extremely happy.” 

Susan Storm smiled the most authentic smile Peter had ever seen her direct his way. “I doubt I’ll ever find the time or funding to explore that research any farther,” she admitted, interlacing her hands on top of the table. She gave him a small nod. “But…I’ll look into it. One science nerd to another.”

Peter mirrored her smile tenfold. “Awesome!” he exclaimed. “Maybe I can write my next analysis essay on your future findings. This research could help us understand how beings like Captain Marvel and the Asgardians are able to survive deep space travel at the molecular level without their bodily fluids boiling or the air being vacuumed from their lungs or—”

“Peter!”

The teenager flinched, head whipping towards the sound of his name. Across the lawn, he spotted Ned in Johnny’s line, only a few people away from the very front, hopping up and down and waving his arms around like his hair was on fire. He could hardly believe how far the line had moved since he’d left. How long had he been gone? Peter threw his friend a quick thumbs-up, then turned back to Dr. Storm.

“Going to see my brother next?” Susan asked, crinkling her nose with feigned disgust. “Could you go ahead and repeat all those nice things you said about me being a selfless and heroic sister to him? Y’know, remind him how lucky he is to have such a committed and loving older sibling? Oh,” she added, snagging something from under the table, “and would you mind giving this to him? Us Storms burn like goddamn marshmallows on days like this.” 

Sue handed him the item, which appeared to be a bottle of some kind of fancy Korean sunscreen. The thought of a guy who could light his whole body on fire being susceptible to sunburn made Peter giggle softly to himself. His heart buoyed at the thought of all the little things Susan remembered and did like this to show how much she cared for Johnny. She truly loved her brother, despite the message getting lost in translation more often than not. 

“I’m on it,” Peter promised, waving back at her as he stepped away from the booth. “Really great meeting you! Sorry again for making you cry! You’re amazing!”

Susan chuckled. “Great meeting you too, Peter.”

Peter startled. He didn’t remember telling her his name. He supposed she must’ve heard when Ned screamed it at him from Johnny’s line. Too bad she’d never know that Peter—the nerdy fan she’d deemed kind and trustworthy—was also the masked vigilante she considered a menace and a threat. 

Peter jogged across the field to meet his friend, who looked about ready to burst with excitement. 

“Thank god!” Ned exclaimed, grabbing Peter by the sleeve and dragging him back into the queue. “You weren’t answering your phone! I was in full panic mode thinking you weren’t gonna make it in time!” Ned noticed the bottle in his hand and scowled. “What is that? A souvenir?”

“Sunscreen,” Peter said. “For Johnny. Dr. Storm asked me to give it to him. Apparently he sunburns easily.”

Ned met his gaze, stunned. “For real? Aw! She entrusted you with a quest! I guess Peter Parker made a better first impression with her than Spider-Man did, huh?” 

Peter shrugged. “Guess so. With all three of them, actually. Probably has something to do with my big brown doe eyes and dumb squishy baby face. That’s how Mr. Stark describes them, anyway—which I hate.”

Ned snickered. “Let’s see if your doe eyes and baby face work on the Human Torch, too.”

The two friends scooched another couple steps forward in line, and the smooth wave of Johnny Storm’s sunset-gold hair caught Peter’s eye past the shoulder of the woman in front of him, quickly followed by a glimpse of his angular jaw, a flash of that zany smile. The fans he was currently speaking to moved aside, squealing to each other and shouting their “thanks yous” and “goodbyes” as they scampered away, arms loaded with autographed Johnny merch, and suddenly there was only one person between them and the Human Torch. He was mere minutes from meeting him as Peter Parker once again. Not as Spider-Man—a daring superhero with a life of thrills and adventure, whom Johnny considered his equal and friend—but as himself. Peter Benjamin Parker. An awkward, unpopular loser whose greatest adversaries prior to gaining powers had been overdue electricity bills and high school bullies. Not that those things had gone away after he’d become Spider-Man, per se. He just had bigger problems to deal with alongside them. 

None of this should’ve bothered him, seeing how Peter would just be another random fan for Johnny to forget about the moment he left his direct line of vision. But a tiny, paranoid voice caressed his mind with ice-cold whispers, revving the excited thump of Peter’s pulse to a wild roar: What if he finds you out? What if he realizes it’s you? What if he recognizes your voice? Your demeanor? Your weird nervous habits? It was pretty easy to keep people who knew him only as Peter from discovering he was Spider-Man; no one suspected a guy as scrawny and nerdy as him to be lifting cars over his head or fighting off feral space aliens. But this was the first time someone who knew Spider-Man extremely well was meeting his boring civilian counterpart more than once. What if Johnny clocked him the moment he opened his mouth?

Eager anticipation careened into nauseous anxiety. He grabbed Ned’s wrist, feet rooted in place, sunlight searing the back of his neck. 

“This was a mistake,” Peter croaked out, watching Johnny form a little heart-shaped flame in his palms while the girl in front of them took a video. He jerked his head left and right. “M-maybe we should just—”

Immediately, Ned tore out of his friend’s grip. “Oh, no,” he said, wrapping both arms around Peter’s elbow as tight as a constrictor snake and hauling him forward like a sack of potatoes. “No way am I letting you chicken out now. Not after six hours of waiting for this exact moment.”

Peter dug his heels in the hard dirt beneath them, throat dry, palms clammy. “Ned, wait—you don’t understand—”

“I understand perfectly, ” his friend interceded. “You’re nervous, and that’s okay! This is a complex emotional situation you’re stepping into. But we’re not gonna let some last-minute nerves get in the way of you and Johnny’s highly anticipated reunion. Not on my watch.”

Peter shook his head, sputtering out more pathetic, mildly coherent protests, desperate to get Ned to listen, but he couldn’t form the words fast enough. The woman in front of them was already wrapping up her chat with Johnny and moving away from the booth, leaving nothing but a couple feet of empty space between the pair of friends and the Human Torch. Peter’s heart ballooned as the young hero became fully visible to him: his infectious grin reaching every corner of his face, freckled cheeks flushed in the hot summer sun. At the same time, his stomach dropped like the Coney Island Astro Tower.

“Have a lovely day,” Johnny called after the girl, blowing her a kiss that floated from his lips in lazy circles of smoke. As he watched the haze fade into the atmosphere, an ugly feeling speared through Peter, lashing him down to the bone. 

Jealousy. And not jealousy for Johnny, like he’d previously assumed—but jealousy of the girl he was blowing kisses at. The realization made him consider throwing himself into the trash can on his right and hiding amongst the filth until he shriveled up and died. 

“I’ll break the ice, then you’re up, bestie,” Ned whispered to him. He gave Peter’s arm a squeeze, then skipped fearlessly towards the Human Torch, throwing a wink over his shoulder. “Don’t be weird! You got this!”

“Hey there,” Johnny said as Ned approached, flames flicking across the tips of his wiggling fingers. Effortlessly cool as always, he thought bitterly. Peter hung back, grinding his molars together, wringing the bottle of sunscreen between his fists. 

“Hello Johnny!” Ned answered emphatically. He swung his backpack to the front of his body and snagged the Human Torch Funko Pop box out of the biggest pocket. “I can’t believe we finally made it! My friend and I have been waiting here all day just to meet you and get your autograph.”

“I appreciate your incredible patience,” Johnny said, taking the collectible from Ned’s outstretched hands. “Our outdoor fundraiser of course had to fall on the hottest day of the summer so far.” He sounded a bit rehearsed and mechanical, like he’d been repeating the same phrases again and again all day, but no less friendly. He swiped a palm across his sweaty forehead and grinned at the bobble head Ned had given him. “Wow! Limited edition. These are hard to come by. You must be very proud.”

“Not gonna lie, having the full signed Fantastic Four set will probably be the proudest achievement of my life so far.” Shyly, Ned held up his phone, hovering his finger over the record button. “Would you mind if I filmed you autographing it? You know, for authenticity’s sake?”

“Go right ahead,” Johnny said warmly. He held up his index finger, the tip glowing red-hot. “Want it in ink, or burned on?”

“Burned, please,” Ned answered immediately. “Burned is by far the coolest.”

Johnny nodded. “You got it.” Using his pointer finger like a mini blow torch, he went to work gently searing his name into the Funko Pop box, sweeping his autograph across the thin cardboard in long, sloping arcs as he must’ve done a thousand times already. Ned smiled as wide as the Hudson as he recorded him, struggling not to bounce from foot to foot.

“Does your friend have anything they want signed?” Johnny asked as he finished the final stroke of his signature. Peter had been mostly hidden behind Ned up to this point, but his treacherous best friend stepped to the side so there was nothing left to shield him from Johnny’s magnetic gaze, shooting him an encouraging look. Peter’s face heated as Johnny’s eyes rose from the Funko Pop to meet his, then slowly widened.

“Do you?” Ned prompted him.

Peter shook his head rigidly. “No. I’m good. Thank you.”

“Hey,” Johnny said, wagging a finger at him, eyes brightening with recognition. “I know you!”

Peter’s heart practically burst through his ribcage. “W-what?” he yelped, staggering back a step. “You do?”

“Yeah! You’re that guy who yelled at me outside of the bubble tea shop.”

Peter’s jaw dangled open, then immediately clamped shut, relief draining through him. Oh, thank god. He only recognized him from that one-time encounter, not as the spider-themed superhero he’d befriended over the past week. So long as he played it cool, Johnny would never figure out who he was really speaking to.

You know. Because he was so good at playing it cool.

Ignoring Ned, whose face was about to split in two from how aggressively he was smiling, Peter swallowed. “Oh. Right. I’m surprised you remember that.”

Johnny’s lips turned upwards playfully. “How could I forget? You were awfully pissed at me that day, pretty boy.” 

Deadly heat shuddered up Peter’s spine. Ned smothered a snicker in his sleeve to his left. 

“To be fair, I deserved it,” Johnny continued with a shrug. “I caused a lot of unnecessary damage and was in desperate need of a reality check. You were right to call me out on my shit, especially since you said I almost killed your best—” Horror flashed across his expression as he clapped both hands over his mouth. “Oh my god,” he mumbled into his palms, voice dripping with dread as his eyes flicked back to Ned. “Was that you? Are you his friend I almost killed?”

Ned waved him off casually. “Don’t sweat it. Water under the bridge. It was really cool to get to see you all live in action—even if I did almost get blasted in the face by a fireball. Most eventful boba run to date.”

Johnny shook his head in dismay. “I am so sorry. I wasn’t myself that day. That doesn’t excuse what I did, I just—I hope you know I won’t ever let my own personal drama drive me to behave that recklessly ever again.” 

Ned tapped the side of his temple. “Trust me—in my mind, any bad things you’ve ever done are entirely negated by the fact that I now own a collectible with your signature on it.”

Johnny’s concerned expression eased into a halfhearted smile, followed by a light laugh that sent sparks sizzling across Peter’s skin. “I’m lucky to have such forgiving fans,” he said, handing the Funko Pop back to Ned. His Baltic blue eyes veered to Peter again, drinking in his features with unabashed curiosity. “I need you to know the Fantastic Four paid back all the business owners for the damages I caused that day, including the owner of that tea shop.” Earnestness and guilt saturated every word from his lips. “She’s set to start rebuilding next week, and I promised her I’d come by once she reopens to post myself trying her drinks to give her sales a big boost and make up for all the trouble I caused.” He searched Peter’s gaze, fraught to right the wrongs he’d committed, his neck and forehead slick with sweat. Johnny felt everything so poignantly, including remorse for his mistakes. He’d be gutted if Peter refused to forgive him, despite him being some no-name stranger he’d probably never speak to again. Like alway, it softened Peter’s heart to see just how much the Storm siblings cared. 

“That’s nice of you,” Peter said measuredly. The reply came out more curt and sterile than he intended, but he was scared of talking in longer bouts—scared that his voice or speaking patterns might start sounding familiar to the fiery celebrity. When Johnny looked wounded by his robotic answer, he added: “Thank you. For, um, helping her. And the others. They deserve it. Not having their businesses burned down, obviously, but—y’know. Being helped.”

Wow. Smooth, Pete. A true masterclass in playing it cool.

Johnny leaned back in his chair with one arm draped across the backrest and his opposite foot tucked into his lap. His sun-drowsed stare traced Peter up and down, studying him like a strange modern art piece he was trying to pull meaning out of. The corner of his mouth ticked towards the sky.

“You’re tough to read, pretty boy. First you berate me in the street—warranted, but still harsh—then you wait in line for hours and hours just for the chance to chat with me for a few minutes. I can’t decide if you like me or hate me.”

It didn’t matter how many times Johnny threw on a smirk and spoke to him in that bold, impish tone: the Human Torch’s charm never failed to fluster him to the same blistering degree. Peter dug his teeth into his bottom lip to keep himself from saying something he’d regret.

“Oh, he definitely likes you,” Ned answered for him with a giggle, making Peter go scarlet. 

“Ned!” Peter hissed, whacking him in the arm with the sunscreen bottle. Ned cackled as he winced sideways, rubbing at his elbow. Johnny eyed Peter with a renewed sparkle of interest.

“You do?” he said, irises like sapphires in the blazing light. “I’m having a hard time believing that.”

“We both like you for standing up for Spider-Man,” Ned conceded, causing Peter’s muscles to calcify. “He’s our favorite superhero, too.” 

It took all of his collective willpower not to react to the name drop. What are you doing!? Peter wanted to scream. The last person they needed to be bringing up right now was the famous wall-crawler. Any reference or association to the webhead in their current state was downright begging for Johnny to discover the truth. Him and Ned really should’ve spent a chunk of the last six hours establishing some ground rules for this conversation. 

Johnny beamed. “No kidding? See—I knew he had fans out there besides me! And you’re not the first people to tell me that today, either. I tried to convince him to come to this, y’know. Now I can tell him about all the Spidey fans he missed out on meeting.”

Peter pressed his lips into a thin smile while shouting every curse under the sun inside his head. Ned and Johnny both stared at him like they expected him to add something to the conversation. When he didn’t, Johnny narrowed his eyes. 

“I’m still not convinced you like me,” he admitted. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere else but here. I guess I can’t really blame you after everything I put you through, but still. It hurts. Is there anything else I can do to make up for my shitty behavior? There’s nothing worse than having eyes as lovely as yours look at me with such animosity.”

Ditsy warmth crept into his ears as a confusing hodgepodge of emotions washed through him. It both thrilled and disappointed Peter that Johnny was speaking to him like this. Of course he enjoyed being called pretty and lovely by his crush. Every compliment he tossed his direction sent the butterflies in Peter’s belly into a mad rush through his digestive tract. But it only confirmed his gloomiest suspicions: Johnny’s flirtatious behavior wasn’t exclusive to Spider-Man. He charmed everyone this way—captivating hearts left and right without even trying. It was encouraging to know that he liked the way Peter looked beneath his mask, but disheartening to realize his relationship with the webhead was truly nothing special. 

“Don’t mind him,” Ned said. He peered back at Peter, cracking a wicked grin. “He’s not mad; he’s just nervous to talk to you. You’re his biggest crush, after all.”

Johnny’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. Ned let out a fiendish giggle. Peter’s jaw fell open as his skin turned to molten iron. 

No he did not.

As the blush in Peter’s face permeated his bones, Johnny’s gaze snapped back to him. The teen’s mouth curled in delight. 

“Oh really?” he mused. “Is that true, pretty boy?”

“Y-your sister asked me to give this to you,” Peter blurted out before Ned or Johnny or anyone else had the chance to say another goddamn word. He shouldered past his snickering friend and jabbed his arm towards Johnny with the sunscreen in his fist. “She said you burn easily.”

Blinking, Johnny took the bottle from him, then scoffed. “Are you serious?” He turned in the direction of his elder sibling, lifting the sunscreen high above his head. “Sue!”

Dr. Storm glanced up from the fan-made doll she was admiring and cut a frown in Johnny’s direction. When Johnny mouthed “the fuck?” at her, pointing at the bottle, she mimed rubbing sunscreen on her face in reply. The Human Torch groaned.

“I can’t believe she put you up to this,” he muttered. “She’s ridiculous. I already applied plenty this morning.”

Despite the embarrassment ingesting him like quicksand, an unexpected smile seized Peter’s lips at Johnny’s childish irritation. He tapped a finger to his cheek. “Based on how red your face is right now, I think she’s doing you a favor. You definitely look like you need some more.”

Recapturing his gaze, Johnny returned his smile with roguish amusement. “I could say the same for you, darling—although I’m pretty sure yours is red for different reasons.”

Once again, Peter’s heart leapt inside his chest, the color in his cheeks deepening even more. Being subjected to Johnny’s flirtatious teasing without a mask to conceal its demonstrable effect on him was a whole new level of mortifying Peter had no interest growing accustomed to.

“What did it for you?” Johnny inquired, squirting sunscreen into his palms and gingerly dabbing it onto his face. “The hair? The teeth? My redemptive philanthropy and bottomless altruism? Or is it the flames? It’s usually the flames.”

Peter knew he was only asking to get a rise out of him, but Johnny’s question presented him with an opportunity most people would never encounter: the chance to confess to one’s crush exactly how one felt about him without enduring the consequences of him knowing who he was actually talking to. Spider-Man could never tell Johnny how he truly felt—but Peter Parker could. Because Peter Parker was no one to him. 

He would not gush over every detail of what made Johnny the object of his affection; Johnny got that every hour of every day, and his ego was already big enough as is. Instead, he would keep it short, simple, and honest—and perhaps grant the Human Torch a taste of his own mischievous medicine for a change.

So Peter swallowed his sticky insecurity and took a step closer to him, leveling his gaze with the smug twinkle in Johnny’s eyes. 

“I like that you don’t care about anyone’s opinion of you except for the people most important to you,” Peter stated matter-of-factly. To top it off, he reached out and gently rubbed the streak of sunscreen on Johnny’s forehead into his skin, gliding his thumb across the scar just above his eyebrow. “But the hair and the flames are a nice added bonus.”

Although already pink with sunburn, Peter swore he saw the Human Torch’s cheeks flush a shade darker, and his enhanced hearing picked up on the sound of his heart thumping a few beats faster. A triumphant smirk found Peter’s lips. Just because he was the one with the crush didn’t mean Johnny got to have all the fun with it. He let his thumb drag along the line of Johnny’s temple as he pulled his hand away. The Human Torch blinked at him, lips parted, eyes wide, then lightly touched where Peter's finger had been, tiny wisps of smoke curling off his scalp. 

“What’s your name?” he asked suddenly. There was no toying or playfulness in his tone this time—only genuine interest. Now it was Peter’s turn to be caught off guard. He supposed there was no point in lying. 

“Peter,” he said.

“Peter what?”

A shy giggle escaped him. “Parker. Peter Parker.”

Johnny giggled back. “Well then, Peter Parker. You’re a very mysterious person. I like that.” He held up his fist for Peter to bump. “It was great to see you again. Looking forward to the next time we meet.” 

Peter smiled, reaching out to tap his knuckles to Johnny’s, but froze just before they made contact. Despite the heat, a sudden chill crawled up his spine. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Fear raked its claws across his skin. 

“Peter?” he heard Ned call, followed by a rumble of excited chatter from the crowds surrounding them. A moment later, a shadow rose up behind him, blocking out the sun, casting Johnny’s wide eyes in a shaft of darkness. A monstrous hand curled around his shoulder, making Peter’s entire body seize up. He knew who it was before he even saw his face or heard his voice. His senses had warned him of that ruthless presence many times before. His lungs had screamed for air as those bloodthirsty fingers crushed the oxygen from his windpipe. 

“Pardon me,” the man behind him said, his voice as deep and haunting as he remembered. The last time he’d heard it, it was roaring with laughter as Peter fled through a shattered window, glass slicing his hands, broken ribs crunching like glow sticks, vision tunneling with pain and terror. “Mr. Storm and I need a moment alone, if you don’t mind.”

Peter’s eyes slowly rose to find the face of the man looming over him. He had brutal eyes and deep frown lines that fixed him with a constant look of vitriol, even when he was smiling. His bald head gleamed in the sunshine like a freshly peeled egg. 

Kingpin. 

Wilson Fisk didn’t even bother to look at Peter as he shoved him out of his way. He regarded him with the same courtesy a charging elephant awards a twig. Peter stumbled back into Ned, very nearly knocking both of them to the ground. Photographers and media workers immediately flocked to the scene, knocking into the two teens as they jostled for space with Fisk’s bodyguards, blocking Johnny from Peter’s view. Alarm flooded the young hero’s veins. 

“Fisk,” Peter breathed. “I—I have to stop him. He’s going to hurt—”

Ned yanked him backwards with a hand around his bicep. “Peter, we can’t,” he whispered fearfully. “Come on—we have to go.”

Peter turned on his friend in disbelief. “We can’t just leave him!” he hissed. “What if Fisk attacks him for all those things he said? I have to be here to help!”

“Fisk won’t attack him in broad daylight,” Ned insisted. “Not with all these fans around. He’s a politician. Besides—if he tries anything, the Fantastic Four will wipe the floor with that loser. You’d be risking exposing your secret identity for nothing.” He gave his arm another sharp tug. “Come on. We’re gonna get in trouble.”

“But—” Peter protested, eyes whipping back to the mob of people and the barbaric murderer standing between him and Johnny. This wasn’t right. This was downright treacherous. Johnny had risked everything to protect him when he was in trouble. Peter had to be there to make sure he was safe. He’d reveal himself to the whole world if that meant keeping Johnny safe.

“All right, boys. Move along.” One of Johnny’s security guards marched towards them with a scowl, wafting at them with his hand like they were an unruly stench he was trying to get rid of. “You’ve had your turn. Either move to the back of the line, or beat it.”

Ned nodded fervently. “Got it. We’re going, Thank you, sir.” Ned gave Peter’s forearm another quick jerk, forcing him to lurch back a few treasonous steps. For half a second, his eyes found Johnny’s amidst the throng of people pressing around the young celebrity’s booth. They looked startled, confused, but not afraid. Sweat slipped down Peter’s shoulder blades and dampened the back of his T-shirt. 

You should be afraid, Flame Brain.  

“He’ll be okay,” Ned tried to reassure him, practically dragging his friend away from the queue. “Fisk won’t touch him. He’s not that stupid.”

“I have to be sure,” Peter answered hollowly. 

Even though the sun was beginning to dip beneath the horizon, its piercing glow seared Peter’s flesh worse than it had all day.  

Johnny met Peter Parker’s gaze one last time before the boy disappeared behind a wall of bodies and cameras. For some reason, his soft brown eyes were charged with fear, the color in his cheeks draining to a pallid gray. He looked like he’d seen a ghost when Wilson Fisk and his posse rolled into their fundraiser as if they owned the place. 

Sweet guy. Cute, too. He’d always been a sucker for baby browns and curly hair. Too bad Johnny’s heart was solely preoccupied with arachnid-themed superheroes who may or may not be heterosexual. Despite Reed’s certainty on the matter, the verdict was still up for debate as far as he was concerned. 

He turned his attention back to the unnaturally large man towering over him like a skyscraper in a three piece suit. Cold, calculating eyes bored into his own. The smell of Mont Blanc cologne mixed with heavy perspiration assaulted his nose in the most unpleasant fashion. He had the air of an oversized baby parading around in designer brands, but with enough power to keep you from making jokes about it. 

Johnny had never spoken to Wilson Fisk before. He’d spotted him a few times attending the same galas and charity events as him—only because he was almost impossible to miss—but they had yet to meet face-to-face. He supposed neither of them had had a reason to until now. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Storm,” Fisk greeted him. He wore a smile that resembled a constipated sneer. “Fundraiser going well, I presume?”

Despite the climbing of his pulse, Johnny fixed his features into an expression of bland disinterest. “Sure is,” he replied, gesturing haphazardly to the thermometer-shaped donation log behind him. “This one’s on track to be our best one yet. There’s something about puppies and kittens in need that makes guilt-ridden rich folk unusually eager to open up their hearts and their wallets.” Johnny nodded towards Fisk’s guards, who had set up a perimeter between them and the impatient queue of fans, blocking anyone from stepping within a 30-door radius of their boss. “That’s why you’re here disrupting our entire event, right? ‘Cuz you’ve got a big check to cash for all those poor little animals?”

Wilson Fisk chuckled—a deep, guttural sound that rolled like thunder from his barrel-shaped chest, making Johnny’s skin crawl. “Of course,” Fisk assured him, patting the breast pocket of his silver suit jacket. “I wouldn’t dream of showing up to a function hosted by the Fantastic Four without my checkbook and pen handy. Your sister has truly mastered the art of monetizing your team’s image.” He flashed a barracuda grin. “For the poor little animals, of course.”

Sweat slipped between his skin-tight suit and the bend of his spine as Johnny ventured a glance in Susan’s direction. She was doing her best to stay focused on the fans at her booth, but the fear in her eyes was electric each time they flickered his way. 

“But first, I’d like to talk about some of the alarming comments you made about me recently.”

Johnny faced the man in front of him with a calm frown. “Saying those things was a mistake I assure you won’t happen again.” He wove his fingers together and placed them on top of the table. “I shouldn’t believe every flippant piece of gossip I hear that finds its way to me through the rumor mill. And I certainly shouldn’t tell others about anything I’ve heard until I have undeniable evidence supporting my claims.”

Fisk flared his nostrils at the teen's beguiling response. “I can assure you, Mr. Storm, that whatever insidious hearsay you’ve been told about me is entirely false. A full breakdown of my business operations and my personal history is available to the public on my website. I have nothing to hide.” The jagged creases in his forehead deepened. “I’m running for mayor of this city to combat crime and purge the corruption that plagues our political systems, and the last thing I need is a high-profile public figure such as yourself casting doubt on my credibility and defaming my name. The people of this city trust you, Mr. Storm. Your words hold power. It does not serve you well to use that power to spread lies.”

Johnny’s gaze hardened. “Like I said,” he told him firmly. “Won’t happen again.”

“I’m afraid I need you to do better than that." Fisk adjusted his tie, running his fingers along the ornate silk detailing. “You see, I’m the only mayoral candidate with a plan to work directly with superheroes such as yourself to reduce crime and make this city safer. I want the Fantastic Four to become an official part of the justice department so we can all band together to get bad guys off the streets. It’s to your benefit that I’m elected—and for that to happen, not only do I need you to stop tarnishing my name to your followers. I need your direct endorsement. You can get me the youth vote, and I can get you and your team all the funding and authorization needed to do what you do better than ever before. We can help each other, Mr. Storm. If I win, we all win.”

Johnny crossed his arms against his chest and tilted his chin slightly upward. “Not according to Spider-Man.”

The slippery smile on Fisk’s lips fell in an instant. Darkness twisted his features into an expression that turned Johnny’s guts to ice. 

“Ah,” Fisk growled. “Yes. Spider-Man.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket and dabbed at the beads of sweat speckled across his hairless head. “Tell me, Johnny—how long have you been acquainted with our friendly neighborhood menace?”

“Long enough to know he’s not a menace,” Johnny shot back. “And that both of us have plenty of reasons not to trust you.”

“And what reasons might those be?”

Johnny opened his mouth, then quickly shut it again, swallowing. If what Spidey suspected of Fisk was true, it might be dangerous for him to know how much Johnny knew about his illegal proclivities. When Johnny didn’t answer, Fisk grinned, laying his palms on the table between them and leaning in closer.

“Whatever it is he’s accused me of, why don’t you ask him to provide you some proof. Any proof. I guarantee he’ll have nothing but empty promises and blatant falsehoods to support his baseless claims.” He pressed further into Johnny’s personal space—so much so that he could feel the heat of his breath when he spoke. “Spider-Man is a depraved criminal, Mr. Storm. The kind that plays the part to earn your trust, then tears you down when you least expect it. I trusted him once too, you know—as I’m sure many others have. But it always leads to the same painful conclusion: his fear and envy of true power driving him to dismantle those in possession of it.”

Johnny pursed his lips, daring not to breathe, but refusing to back away from the unsightly face lurking uncomfortably nearer to his own. 

“You’re a clever boy, Johnny,” Fisk continued. “Strong, talented, and influential, as well. All things that Spider-Man loves to bleed dry from his victims. I’ve been able to evade his destructive path thus far, but I’d hate to see you befall the fate that has led this city to curse the arachnid’s name.” Fisk erected his spine and held out a massive hand for Johnny to take. “Join me, Mr. Storm. Together, we can rid New York of Spider-Man’s foul presence, and ensure that the Human Torch becomes the most powerful and beloved superhero this world ever sees.”

Johnny’s eyes lowered to the massive palm presented to him, then flicked back up to meet Fisk’s. It was an effort not to wrinkle his nose in revulsion as he willed his face into an unreadable wall. He cleared his throat, then stood from his chair, rising to be as close to eye-level with the man as all 5’11” of him could manage.

“First of all, I’m already the most powerful and beloved superhero. If there’s anyone here who's afraid of my power, it’s you.” Flames fizzled off his shoulders and danced down his forearms. “Second, Spider-Man is my friend—and a good fucking person. If you plan to hurt him, you’re going to have to go through me first. And trust me when I say that if things get to that point, winning an election will be the least of your concerns.”

The two of them stared each other down, a live wire running between their locked gazes. Fisk’s eyebrows knit together as his expression took a turn for the deadly. His outstretched hand cinched into a fist. 

“And trust me, young man,” he sneered, “when I say that I am not somebody you want to make your enemy. You think you’re the only person here with power and influence? I’m just as capable of lifting you up as I am of bringing you down.”

Unease simmered beneath Johnny’s skin. “Is that a threat?” he asked coldly.

“No,” Fisk replied, flashing a Cheshire Cat smile. “It’s a promise.”

Johnny held the beastly man’s glare, suppressing a shudder. He clenched his jaw, gradually diminishing the flames roiling across his body. 

Spider-Man was right about him.

Fisk’s hand suddenly slipped inside his suit jacket, making Johnny tense up reflexively. He grinned at the fear in the young hero’s eyes as he retrieved a thin piece of paper from a hidden inner pocket and held it out for Johnny Storm to take.

“Whatever your final earnings for the fundraiser are, match ‘em. Everything but the dollar amount is already filled in. That should suffice for my untimely intrusion and make all those misfortunate animals happy, yes?”

A wave of dread washed over Johnny as he reluctantly accepted the check from his bowling ball-sized fist. Something told him whatever donation amount they ended up cashing in from Fisk, it would clear instantly, and be bathed in blood. 

“I do hope you reconsider my offer,” Fisk added. “You and I share many passions and could accomplish great things together. Who one chooses to align oneself with can make or break his future.” He shook his head solemnly. “It’d be a shame to nail yours to the same crucifix Spider-Man has nailed his.” 

With that, Fisk rapped his knuckles against the table, signaled something to his army of guards, then turned and walked away. Johnny watched his boulder of a back shrink farther and farther into the distance and released a slow, shaky breath, grateful to be free of the man’s inky leer, but unable to shake the disquieting queasiness his presence had left him with. He took a long sip of water and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Well. I’m definitely not publishing that apology now.

“Johnny?” the next fan waiting to meet him called from an awkward distance away. She clutched a Human Torch Squishmallow close to her chest and offered a hesitant smile. “Can, um—can we come over now?” Her along with the rest of the patrons whose line stretched as far as the eye could see peered back at him impatiently, each of their turns with the celebrity hero well overdue.

“Yes—right—sorry. Of course.” Johnny scrubbed a hand through his hair and waved her forward, painting on his happiest, friendliest face. “Welcome, everyone. So sorry for the delay. Step right up, beautiful. Oh, wow—I love your shirt! Where’d you get it from?”

As Johnny chatted and signed stuff and collected donations from people, pushing down the paranoia Fisk had afflicted him with like poison, struggling to stay cheerful and energized for the sake of his fans, he swore he spotted a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. It vanished the moment he looked directly at it, evanescing into the branches of a large maple tree, but he could’ve sworn it was real. And something about that particular shade of red was unusually familiar to him. 

He supposed it could’ve been a bird, a kite, some trick of the imagination. He didn’t have time to dwell on it anyhow. He had fans to entertain and a fundraiser to run. If Fisk wanted to flaunt his excessive liquidity about, Johnny was determined to squeeze every last penny he could get out of him. 

#spider-man #spideytorch #peter parker x johnny storm #peter parker #spiderman fanfiction #johnny storm #my writing #bi peter parker #fantastic 4 #fantastic four #enemies to lovers #irondad #tw: suicide mention

[foxcantswim]

Family Forgiveness Chapter 3 || F!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Soooo... Another part hey? Thanks so much for reading and the amazing feedback/suggestions! Enjoy!

F!Avenger!Reader x Wanda Maximoff / Scarlet Witch

Chapter 3: Y/N, Wanda and America try to make their family work... The whispers in Wanda's head, however, continue to get in the way

Words: 2k Warnings/Tags: Gross AF Family Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Wanda needing yet another hug-

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

It had been a couple days since the incident at Kamar-Taj, Wanda still hadn't forgiven herself for that. She hadn't forgiven herself for a lot of things... You and Wanda had been sitting on the sofa throughout the morning, a movie on in the background as you held her in your arms.

"Hey, mom?" America's voice broke Wanda out of her thoughts - the young girl stood in front of the couch.

"Yes?" both you and Wanda asked. The two of you looked at eachother in confusion.

You cleared your throat, "Er... which one of us are you talking to?" the pair of you sat up.

America groaned, "The cool one."

"I suddenly don't want to know which one of us is the 'cool one' because I think somebody is going to get offended..." you said, standing up from the couch.

"I'm joking," she laughed, "I just wanted to tell you guys that the student from Kamar-Taj has already recovered. It wasn't as bad as it looked," she offered a warm smile specifically towards Wanda.

"That's great," you gave her a quick hug.

"Yes. It is," Wanda sighed in relief, the tension in her shoulders was finally gone.

"Stephen said that you don't need to go back to Kamar-Taj for as long as you want," America said as she offered a hand out to Wanda, the latter took it cautiously as she was pulled up off the couch, "He wanted me to tell you that maybe you could join the students in some of the classes like I am? He thinks it might help you... Totally up to you of course!" she dropped Wanda's hand before stepping back, Wanda was quick to hide her hands in her pockets soon after.

"O-Oh?" Wanda said, slightly nervous about going back to Kamar-Taj at all.

You placed a hand on her shoulder in comfort, "I would join you too, if that would make you feel any better?"

"I'm not sure yet," she said honestly, "I think I need a little more time."

"Yeah. Take all the time you need," you smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

"Ew. Gross," America scowled.

You smirked towards America before shrugging, "Oh? It's gross, is it?" you leaned even closer towards Wanda, "I best not make you feel even more uncomfortable," you said, sarcasm dripping within your words. Without warning, you quickly pulled Wanda into a deep kiss, "Oh nooo, it's so gross," you muttered in between the kiss.

"OKAY! I'm leaving!" America held up her hands before turning to head towards the kitchen.

"Don't you dare burn the kitchen down again!" Wanda managed to exclaim before she willingly returned to the kiss, she hadn't even realised that her hands had made their way to your waist.

"I'm gonna move out, I swear!"

You and Wanda laughed once the girl was out of sight.

Wanda loved this. She was starting to feel more and more at home as the days went on.

"You mean to tell me... That whilst we were in space, you guys were busy fucking with the multiverse?!" Peter exclaimed.

You nodded, leaning back in your chair, "Something like that..." Wanda was seated on a chair near your desk, you couldn't stop a frown from appearing on your face as you watched her flinch at the mention of the multiverse.

"Unbelievable!" Rocket scoffed, kicking some papers off of the desk, "We missed the good stuff!"

You had been called in by Tony to do some boring Avengers paperwork in the compound... But you suspected that it was mainly because he didn't want to deal with the return of the 'Guardians of the Galaxy' himself. So it was up to you to deal with their antics.

"The multiverse," Drax scoffed, "I would've punched a hole in the multiverse if I was here. You should've called."

"I would've loved to see that!" Mantis' smile was wide, clapping at the thought of Drax somehow single-handedly destroying the multiverse.

"I'll remember the next time the multiverse comes around," you rolled your eyes, leaning down to pick up the discarded papers.

Without a word, Wanda stood up. She pushed past Mantis and headed out of the room, the latter's smile turned into a frown.

"What's up with her?" Rocket folded his arms.

"It's a long story," you sighed.

Before you could continue speaking, Mantis interrupted, "She is in pain." The group all looked at her.

You were about to question her but then you remembered. She was an empath. A much stronger one than you, that's for sure.

"So sad," Mantis continued, "And yet, so angry."

Nebula added, "She is filled with rage. I could see it in her eyes."

Clearing your throat, you stood up, "She kind of... went through the multiverse to find something she wanted. And she did things she isn't proud of. It's not really my place to give you the details."

You quickly excused yourself, leaving a bunch of confused Guardians behind you.

Wanda's eyes glowed a flaming red, burn marks scattered the walls of her room. She flicked her hand to release another burst of magic, it managed to smash one of the lights on the wall. The anger growing within Wanda had to come out some way... This wasn't the first time she had used her magic as an outlet.

A knock at the door caused Wanda to flinch, her red eyes couldn't stop filling with tears at the thought of you catching her using magic like this.

"Wands?"

"Go away, Y/N," you could clearly tell that she was beyond angry.

"You know I'm not going anywhere, Wanda!"

A groan escaped Wanda as she felt the magic flow through her arms. The whispers in her head telling her to give up and release her powers. She glanced down at her hands, the anger growing.

"Multiverse, multiverse, multiverse..." Wanda repeated the words in her head. You and the Guardians constantly talking about it. It was becoming too much. This time her magic hit the table, effectively cutting it in half. She sat on the edge of her bed as she buried her head in her hands, the tears slipped through her darkened fingers.

"I SHALL DESTROY ANYTHING THAT GETS IN YOUR WAY, Y/N!" Drax exclaimed, the door suddenly flung off its hinges. Wanda barely reacted, her eyes screwed shut as the whispers grew louder.

"I didn't want you to completely destroy the door!" you complained, pushing past him. You thanked him anyway as he turned to leave you in peace, a proud smile on his face. You stopped in your path as you noticed your surroundings. The room had an eerie feel to it. The walls were covered in burn marks, some old and some new. The carpet was burnt to a crisp and numerous pieces of furniture were pretty much destroyed. The only light in the room came from a certain witch's head.

You gulped as you looked at the glowing headpiece that was on top of Wanda's head. It was a bright red and almost see-through.

"Please go away," Wanda whispered, not looking up, "I don't want to hurt you."

Not listening to her, you stepped closer towards the bed, "You won't hurt me, Wanda. I know you won't."

"But what if I do?" her voice cracked as she finally looked up to see you, her eyes glowing. You hadn't seen them this red in a long time.

You kneeled down on the floor in front of her and took her hands in yours. Almost immediately, the headpiece disappeared and her eyes returned to green, "You won't," you said again, reaching one of your hands up to wipe the tears away from her cheek, "I trust you."

She clenched her eyes shut again, "My head-"

"I know," you sighed, tightly holding her hands in yours again. You felt the sadness growing within her, but the anger was slowly dying down, thankfully.

You stood up and sat next to her on the edge of the damaged bed, your arm came up around her shoulders. She happily leaned her head against your shoulder, enjoying the closeness. You allowed her to take deep breaths as she did her best to calm down, her arms came up to wrap around your middle to make sure you weren't going anywhere.

"Don't leave, detka," she pleaded, "I know I told you to go away. But I really don't want you to."

"I'm not going anywhere. I promise," you knew that deep down she was afraid of what she was capable of, you knew she was scared of losing control and hurting you. You looked around her room, biting your lip as you eyed the damages, "We'll get this place cleaned up a bit and head back home. Tony will understand."

Wanda's eyes were now closed in content. She felt safe with you around.

A knock on the wall caused you to look up, Wanda didn't dare look herself.

"I retrieved the girl as you requested, miss Y/N," Mantis nodded, stepping to the side to allow America into the room. You felt Wanda tense up next to you once she realised who the girl was.

"Thanks, Mantis," you said before Mantis walked back down the hall.

"Why did you ask America to come?" Wanda whispered as she opened her eyes to look up at you, they were still glossy with tears.

"Because we're family and we're going through this together," you explained, you moved away from her despite her protests.

America came closer and held out her arms, "We're in this together," she smiled at her. Wanda stood up and accepted the hug, her heart racing. She held her tighter as more warm tears trickled down her cheeks. You smiled sadly at the sight.

"Thank you, America," she sighed, not quite believing that she did in fact have a family.

"Don't mention it. Still gotta work on forgiving yourself, hey?"

You stood up and began to take off the bedsheets, they definitely needed a bit of a clean after Wanda's outburst of magic. You were about to 

That was when you heard America whisper, "I meant it when I said you were the cool mom."

Scoffing, you threw a pillow at the girl causing her to pull away from her hug with Wanda, "I knew it," you glared at the two.

"It's not my fault she has awesome powers!"

"I-I have awesome powers, too!" you stammered.

"Oh, yeah?" America raised an eyebrow, folding her arms, "I can travel the multiverse by choice. Wanda can fly, make things out of thin air, look like a badass in fights and-"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" you rolled your eyes.

Wanda couldn’t stop the smile from appearing on her face upon hearing that America actually liked her magic. She let out a small giggle as she watched you try to justify your 'powers'. She already felt much better. It was strange... But the anger and sadness within her seemed to always disappear when she made contact with you.

"Isn't that Mantis girl an actual empath?" America questioned, cocking her head to the side.

"Y-Yes, but-!"

Despite being a much weaker empath, Wanda knew that you had a power that nobody else did.

The power to make the whispers go away.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch #america chavez #elizabeth olsen x reader #reader x wanda maximoff #Guardians of the Galaxy

[noshitbarnes]

Anti-Hero: Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Summary: After being experimented on as a young child and given abilities, Daniela has become a highly skilled member of the Avengers, and has even been assigned to mentor Peter Parker. Little does she know that the happiness she’s been able to find will become threatened by the very people who started her on her path long ago.

Warnings: language

Word Count: 4,877

Notes: Let me know what you guys think! I know it's still a little slow, but the following chapters are where the story starts to take hold, thanks for being patient!

Anti-Hero Prologue

PRESENT DAY

It was like any other Friday afternoon, except that the entire team was gathered at the newly appointed SHEILD Headquarters, debriefing the director, Nick Fury, about their latest mission. Normally, the whole team wouldn't be there, but Nick called in the cavalry, clearly he had something on his mind. Once Nick had been briefed on Natasha's latest mission, he looked around the room, and changed topics.

“Alright,” Nick sighs lightly then continues, “let’s get to why I really called you all here; I want to talk more about Parker.”

All eyes turn to Daniela, who visibly rolled her eyes while leaning back in her chair, “Sir, I told you last week that he’s doin’ good,” she shrugs, “he’s a noncombatant right now, ya know. I help him write papers for his classes mostly. Sometimes I help his Aunt May too."

“And how’s that, going?” Nick asks.

Daniela smirks lightly, “About as expected, he’s 18 and driving me insane, but he’s smart as hell and his Aunt is one of the nicest people I've ever met. So I guess I could imagine a worse way to spend my time.”

Nick nods and crosses his arms, “Are you regretting becoming his mentor?”

She shrugs, “Well, I was actually ordered to by Stark,” Tony rolls his eyes and she chuckles, “and was told if he was given to Barnes or Wilson, he’d be miserable. I’m supposedly nicer,” she smiles sweetly up at Nick, proud of her slight dig at the two men.

“It’s like you think I’m not here, Velikov,” Bucky rolls his eyes then turns from next to her and kicks her shin lightly, making her glare back, “I’m not that bad. Sam is though.”

“I heard that,” Sam said scowling at Bucky from across the table and then turns his eyes to Daniela, “and since when are you nice?”

“Alright,” Nick interrupts before anyone can say anything else, “I just wanted to get a base line for how he was doing," he uncrosses his arms and puts his hands behind his back, "I’ll leave it to Stark and Rogers to tell you when to start training him for active duty. Remember, I need you to give him your full attention.”

Nick Fury. Director of SHIELD. Mr. No-Fun-Ever. He was constantly reminding Daniela that the future was up to her, that she was going to someday lead the team, and if she fucked up even a little bit, everyone was doomed, but no pressure or anything. Now, she has this tiny little spider following her around everywhere, sorta like a puppy. Peter is an amazing kid, and she would fight dragons for him, but he was still somewhat of a shadow, and shadows can get annoying.

Daniela sighs lowly and nods, “Yes, sir.”

Nick looks around the table, “Alright then, that’s all I needed, you guys are free to go," he walks out of the room as everyone else stands from their chairs. Tony walks out quickly, before anyone else, after Nick, calling his name, causing the director to turn around and greet him. They pause in the hallway briefly, Tony doing most of the talking, then they both continue down the hall.

Daniela raises an eyebrow at the two men, but doesn't get much time to process it when she hears Steve call her name, “Velikov," she turns her eyes to him and he continues, "go get the kid, we’ll wait on the jet.”

She nods and heads for the door, “Can do, sir.”

Since Peter wasn’t active duty currently, he wasn’t allowed to be in briefings or meetings, so she had to find a place for him to sit tight. Daniela walks out of the conference room and makes her way to the nearest break room, where she told Peter to wait. She figured there he would be out of the way and wouldn’t cause any trouble. As she walks down the hallways of SHIELD headquarters, she says hello to passing agents, some new, some she’s known for years. Every agent she passed seemed the same, wearing all black, gun on their hip, slightly cold, but still willing to say a small passing greeting. These hallways use to feel like home to her, some days she missed them, back when she didn't have as many responsibilities and less people looking to her for guidance. Back then she worked alone, didn't really know much about the rest of the team, although she did know Fitz and Simmons pretty well. Now that she's an Avenger, she's only been on a handful of solo missions, most of the time she gets paired with Natasha or Clint. She use to hate having to work with someone else, but now, she welcomed the extra help, and was starting to like the company.

Once she makes her way to the break room, she opens the door, finding it surprisingly empty, except for one lonely face— near the floor in front of the vending machine, “Parker,” she crosses her arms, trying to hold back a laugh, as she walks up to him, "I leave you alone for what, 15 minutes, and this is what happens?”

Currently, Peter's sitting on the floor, his legs tucked up underneath him, and his side flush with the front of the machine. He was also quietly talking to himself, what he was saying, Daniela couldn't exactly hear. However, once Peter heard her voice he looked up at her, and his cheeks started to turn a slight pink.

"Oh, Daniela,” Peter twists his head a bit more to look up at her, “um, this is awkward isn't it?”

She wasn’t sure how this happened, but Peter Parker— the so called Spider-Man— appeared to have his arm stuck in the vending machine. He was trying desperately to reach a bag of Doritos that were currently lodged between the glass and the spiral shelving. This is what Daniela meant by "the shadow can get annoying," Sam or Natasha having to deal with this crap. Over the past month, Daniela's helped Peter out of countless situations, but this one took the cake as the stupidest thing he's done. Before this, the worst thing she'd seen him do was eat cheese whiz straight from a can, which she put a stop to immediately.

"Yeah, for you,” she smirks and takes out her phone, "I'm sending this to the guys, they’ll love it."

"Oh my God, please don't," he half laughs while trying to get his arm free, “just, hand me my web shooter,” he nods to his backpack that was on a nearby table, "please? I can't reach it.”

Daniela rolls her eyes, still trying to figure out what made him think putting his hand in the machine in the first place was a good idea. She was definitely gonna have to teach him more about common sense when they got home. She takes a quick photo, knowing it'd come in handy later as blackmail, and puts her phone back in her pocket, "Just get your arm outta there,” she rolls her eyes, "wheels up in 10.”

He bit his lip nervously, “Um, it might be stuck…” he trails off looking away from her shyly, “any chance you could help me, Sarg?”

"Oh my God,” she shakes her head and runs a hand through her long auburn hair, “of all the things I could be doing, Tony makes me your babysitter.”

Peter glares up at her from the floor, “You’re my mentor, Dani, not my babysitter,” he tries to pull his arm out again, but is unsuccessful, “I’m 18, ya know.”

“You don’t act it,” she tilts her head at him, “or look it really. You might be able to pull of 15.” He continues to glare at her as she walks over to take ahold of the opening on the machine, "Alright, Parker, when I break this, you take your arm out.”

His eyes widen, "You're gonna break it? I was honestly trying to avoid that."

"How else do you expect to get out?” She glares at him, "You wanna live here?" She removes her hands and stands back up, "Maybe I can talk Coulson into getting you a nice Hello Kitty blanket. Maybe even a nightlight for when it gets dark.” Of course she was going to help him, he was her responsibility, but that didn't mean she wasn't gonna give him shit for this.

Peter scowls at his arm and shakes his head, mentally cursing himself for getting into this situation to begin with. It's not like he goes out of his way to get into trouble, trouble just seems to find him. If it wasn't for Tony assigning Daniela as his mentor, he knows he'd be worse off. It just seemed like every time he needed her help, he ended up looking like an idiot. He hated looking like an idiot, especially in front of her.

Peter's expression softens into puppy dog eyes, and he looks up to her, "Please Dani, you gotta help me, Mr. Stark will be pissed if you don’t."

Daniela raises an eyebrow, "You little shit.” Peter then smirks proudly, knowing that guilt-tripping her always works. Despite her tough demeanor, Daniela really did care about Peter, she just has a weird way of showing it. She pauses for a moment, debating if she should just leave him or actually help, “Don't make a sound or I'll kill you myself.”

Peter smiles brightly, "Thank you!”

She shakes her head and takes a hold of the vending machine’s opening once more, "Close your eyes,” he raises an eyebrow at her, "I don't want a piece of plastic to get in them,” he hesitates slightly, then does as she says. She sighs to herself and then closes her own eyes, so that she could focus better. After a brief moment her hands let out a soft white glow and begin to freeze the plastic beneath her hands. Once the plastic is frozen enough, she pulls up on the opening, causing it to break around Peter's arm, enough for him to get free.

Daniela had been assigned by Tony to be Peter’s mentor about a month ago, right after he graduated high school, and Lord did he already know how to push her buttons. The goal was for her to eventually train him to be a full-time Avenger; however currently, she's just helping him with his college classes and overall just getting to know him. At first, she didn’t want anything to do with Peter, she figured he had zero potential to be part of the team, he was just so young and reckless, regardless of how much he wanted to help people. However now, after spending the past month with him, Ned, and his Aunt, she's slowly started to change her mind, and decided to stick around to really help him. They have their disagreements every once in a while, but she really did like him, he was like the little brother she never had, but had always wanted.

"Okay, get your arm out," Daniela makes a mental note to tell Tony about the machine, he was gonna have to replace it. He'd probably end up lecturing them both, which was quiet common nowadays.

Peter takes his arm out and slides back on the carpet away from her, "What about my chips?”

"Yeah, yeah," she stands back up and reaches into the opening of the machine and grabs Peters’s long lost Doritos, “here," she tosses them over her shoulder to Peter and he catches them, eyes still shut, "open your eyes, Parker.”

He opens his eyes and they immediately widen when he sees the machine, “Woah,” he stands up and opens his bag of chips, “thanks, Sarg!”

She smirks slightly, "Not a problem, but you get to explain to Stark why I had to do that. I'm not suppose to use my powers in civilian areas.”

Peter grabs a chip from the bag and tilts his head, "Why not?” he pops the chip into his mouth.

She looks to him with disbelief, "I just froze a vending machine, Parker, imagine what people would think if they saw me doing that.”

Peter continues to look puzzled as he reaches for another chip, “But, you use your powers on missions right?”

"That's in the field! I just sai—” Daniela holds the bridge of her nose in her fingers, growing more frustrated by the second; after a brief moment she looks back to him and fakes a sweet smile, "This took way too long, hopefully Cap didn't leave us.”

**********

"Wait, you did what?” Tony's eyes widen at Peter's words, then he turns to Daniela, "So you froze it? Daniela, we've talked about this. No powers in civilian areas. You gotta listen to me occasionally.”

Daniela and Peter had quickly made their way back to the jet, where everyone was not so patiently waiting. Now, Peter was explaining to Tony what had happened, just like Daniela had told him too. Although, some how, everyone else was more mad at her than at Peter, which seemed to always happen.

Daniela's eyes widen at Tony and she pushes off from the wall she was leaning on, "Technically, I didn’t?” she says questioningly, making Tony raise a challenging eyebrow, “We were at SHEILD and that’s not really a civilian area,” Tony rolls his eyes as she continues, “also, how exactly did this backfire to become my fault?" She raises her hands defensively while looking around at everyone on the Quinjet, "I literally saved Spiderlings arm.”

Sam chuckles and looks to Peter, "How did you even get your arm stuck, kid?"

"Well," Peter starts shyly, "my chips got stuck, I tried shaking it, and that didn't work, so I thought I could reach them," he sighs and shakes his head, slightly embarrassed, "they didn't seem that far up away."

Daniela scoffs and looks to the ceiling, "I can't believe I have to put up with this."

Peter looks to the floor, disappointed in himself, yet again. He's done everything he could this past month to try and prove to Daniela that he belonged here, that he really wanted to be an Avenger, to be better. Everyone else seemed to accept him, except maybe Bucky, but he hasn't spent much time with the ex-assassin. Daniela's opinion matter greatly to him, he wanted to make her proud to be his mentor, clearly he wasn't doing a good enough job.

Steve stands up from his seat by Natasha and walks over to Daniela, “You’re his mentor, Velikov, which means you're suppose to be training him, guiding him,” he then crosses his arms, “you should be the mature one, you’re a lot older. I'd like to think you know not to stick your arm in a vending machine.”

Daniela raises her brows at him judge-fully, "Really? I'm getting this shit from you? Who fought who last week over Scrabble?" She points out, gesturing between him and Tony, “'Cause it damn sure wasn't me!”

"Temper, babe," Tony raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, whatever, you two fight like a damn married couple, it’s embarrassing,” she rolls her eyes as various members of the team chuckle lightly, "I'm sick of being a babysitter. When is he,” she points to Peter who had now taken Steve’s seat by Natasha, "gonna get in trouble for stuff? I feel like I'm the noob around here. Not him.”

Daniella knows ranting like this in front of everyone wasn’t the best idea, but she's never been one to keep quiet while she's angry. She's constantly coming to Peter's rescue whenever he messes up, but then ends up being the one who gets in trouble. Of course, she knows he's young and is bound to make mistakes, but she's never understood why he always gets off scot free.

“Hey," Peter stands up a little offended by her statement, "I got in trouble two days ago because I took one of Dr. Banner's lasers,” he crosses his arms and continues, “I thought Ned would like it. I also might have accidentally cut my desk in half with it.”

She raises an eyebrow when he's finished, "You actually did that?” He nods and she smiles proudly, “I’m impressed," she looks past the boy and mutters to herself, "and that also explains why May asked me if I knew what happened to your desk."

"You knew about that?" Tony snaps.

“No," she glares back at Tony, "he was just looking at the thing when I was giving him a tour and he said something about it being cool. When he tried to touch it, I slapped his hand away. I'm not that stupid, Tony," she then narrows her eyes at Peter, "clearly I need to watch him better.”

Before Tony could retort, Natasha stands up, “Ok,” she holds out her hands— trying to calm everyone down— "I think the problem here is Dani needs to be on her own for a bit, like a mini vacation,” she looks to Tony, "give the kid to someone else for a few weeks,” she smiles devilishly and winks at Daniela, “like Barnes.”

Daniela smiles widely and chuckles silently to herself, "Yeah, Barnes is perfect,” she smiles over at the soldier, who’s eyes grow wide as he tilts his head confused as to why the women were volunteering him, "aw, come on! You need a new friend!”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, "I don't know about that.”

Daniela laughs, "Might be fun to have a new sparring partner, I’m sure you’re sick of Sam.”

He chuckles a bit and then crosses his arms while looking Peter up and down, "He wouldn't be much of a challenge for me, he’s so small.”

Peter's eyes widen in fear, "Ok ok, I'm sorry,” he quickly hops over to Daniela grabbing her arm, "I'll be good,” Daniela winks at Bucky and he smirks, “I won't prank you anymore or steal lasers or make you freeze anything! I promise! I'll even do my homework!”

Daniela raises her brows in mild shock, "If I knew all I had to do was threaten you with Barnes, I would've done it when you first got here," she then crosses her arms and continues before anyone else can interject, "so you'll listen to what I say?" Peter nods, "'Cause Cap says I'm suppose to make you an Avenger. It's not all fun and games,” she pauses and tilts her head a bit thinking, "actually it's mostly not fun and there's usually never any games.”

"We played Monopoly the other night!" Sam says laughing.

Daniela scoffs, "And it ended with you and Barnes fighting over properties.”

Sam glares over at her, "He fucking cheated and you know it!”

"How Sam,” she raises an eyebrow, “he hide the cards in his metal plates?”

Bucky laughs, which earns him a glare from Sam, “The thought occurred to me.”

Just then FRIDAY’s voice rang over the speaker, "Mr. Stark, we'll be landing in 10 minutes.”

"Alright," Tony sighs, "take a seat everyone.”

**********

Once the jet lands, Tony pulls Daniela aside, while everyone else makes their way into the compound. Nothing is said until they arrive at Daniela’s favorite spot on the compound, underneath a large oak tree.

When Daniela first arrived at the compound, she constantly found herself being dragged outside with the others, in order to get to know the team better, but after some time she’d soon find herself laying on the grass underneath the large branches of the tree. A couple of months later, others started to take notice and when they couldn’t find her inside, they knew where she’d gone. During that same time, Tony decided to try and make the spot more comfortable, so that not only would he not worry about her, but she’d also feel like the spot was her own. It wasn’t much, but he built her a free standing hammock that he placed near the base of the tree and a small table where she could put her coffee. For Daniela, this small gesture meant the world to her, since she never had anyone do something so sincere for her.

Daniela lays down on the hammock and closes her eyes, while Tony looks towards the compound and talks, “Why are you so mean to him?”

It's not that Tony actually thought she was being mean, Daniela's always been a bit rough around the edges, it came with the the fact that she had such a tough life. He just thought she could at least be a little more friendly. Although, asking Daniela to be more warm and fuzzy, might be a challenge considering everything she'd been through.

"Tony," Daniela starts, "I'm not mean to him, I actually care a lot about the kid."

Tony raises a brow not amused, "You got a funny way of showing it."

Daniela scoffs lightly, "You know that if I didn’t like Parker, I wouldn’t help him period or would've frozen his feet to the ceiling and left him there,” she crosses her arms on her stomach opening her eyes, and looks to Tony, “why me by the way?”

Tony smiles and turns to her, "Because despite your actual age, you're one of the only ones who can relate to him. I mean, you two are always making weird pop culture references and it drives me nuts," Daniela laughs and Tony continues, "you guys get along great when you're not being, ya know, a smart-ass,” he pauses and glances to the compound briefly, “Pete lights us when he talks about you or whenever you’re around, which is good. Maybe be a little nicer though? He's not one for tough love,” Daniela scoffs and he looks back to her, “the rest of us are use to your, personality,” Tony rolls his eyes, “he’s not, so give him a break. He doesn’t realize that you don’t actually mean anything by it.”

Tony pats her shoulder and Daniela nods before standing up from the hammock, “I still think Barton or Barnes would've been a better choice than me.”

Tony sighs heavily, “Look, you don’t give yourself enough credit. Before you settled down and joined the Marines, you'd been through several wars trying to decimate Hydra. You may have had your own personal agenda behind it, but you still held your own, during a time when no one wanted to see a woman succeed, let alone in the military. You're a seasoned solider, so you know what it takes to survive. Not to mention you've got the brains to hold a conversation with Banner and myself," Daniela rolls her eyes and Tony smiles, "There is no one I trust more to train him, than you,” Daniela looks down at the ground shyly, his compliments making her nervous.

Tony meant every word of it too. There wasn't a single person on this planet he trusted more to train Peter than Daniela, possibly himself, but that would be a far stretch. He knew that she would make sure Peter knew what he was doing out there, she was good at what she did. The things she was able to accomplish in her life were astounding and she deserved all the praise he was giving her and then some.

Tony pats her shoulder, “And like I’ve said before, if I gave him to Barnes or Barton, they would just torture the kid. I know you won’t, mostly.”

“True," she laughs, "they were pretty hard on him when he first got here.”

Tony shakes his head, "Anyway, don't give him any slack just cause he's young ok, he's an adult now. He knows how to handle himself for the most part, but he could use some fine tuning here and there.”

Daniela smiles, "You told Barnes the same thing when he started training me.”

When Daniela first got to the Avenger compound, almost three years ago, she trained with Natasha mostly at first, so they could get an idea for how well she could handle herself. After a couple of weeks, Tony and Steve decided that having Bucky be Daniela's mentor would be good for both of them. Bucky needed something to do when he wasn’t on a mission and Daniela needed more refined training. It was definitely an adjustment for both of them, Bucky hadn't trained anyone in quiet some time and Daniela wasn't use to someone telling her so bluntly that she was doing things wrong. It took a good three months for them to finally decide that they could tolerate one another. Now, they're closer to each other than anyone else on the team, after all they did have some things in common.

Tony nodded sharply, "And did he give you any slack?”

"Well, no,” Daniela shrugs, "but I was over 90 years old and've been to war.”

"And look at you now," he smiles brightly, "three years later and still a smart-ass.”

She chuckles, "Well, he didn't kick the personality outta me, Tony.”

"Then he didn't train you hard enough,” he pauses for a moment, while she laughs, and then he smirks playfully, “maybe you should remind Barnes you can still kick his ass, for old times sake.”

"She never kicked my ass, Stark!”

Daniela’s eyebrows went up in shock at the new voice and she looks back to the door of the compound, but found no one there. Tony only smirks and looks in the direction the voice came from, "Then explain the scar on your leg!”

Bucky finally steps out from behind the door, so that they could see him, “I fell down the stairs,” he retorts, "you can't prove shit!”

"Is that a challenge, tin man?" Daniela giggles as Tony raises a challenging eyebrow, "'Cause I'll find footage and show everyone!”

Bucky stares at the pair for a few moments, then glares at Tony, “Fuck you, Stark,” he then turns around and goes back inside.

Tony smiles smugly, "That's what I thought.”

Daniela looks to Tony and smirks, "You knew he was listenin' didn't you?”

"I had a feeling.” He claps his hands together, “Anyway, I talked to Fury before we left and we came to the decision that Parker is ready for official Avenger training. So, I want you to start tomorrow, just some simple stuff at first alright? None of that shit Barnes and Barton did with you, like take him for a jog or somethin',” she nods and Tony continues, “also, I want you to make sure he's set in his room! Show him how to login to his laptop so he can do his homework, I can't have him falling behind.”

He gives a quick smile before walking to the compound, when Daniela fully realizes what he just said, “Wait, he’s gonna stay here now,” she turns and jogs up next to him, “I thought he was gonna stay with May 'til he was done with this semester.”

“He’s an Avenger now, babe,” he raises an eyebrow at her as they continue to walk toward the compound, “he needs to be here for when we need him. I talked to May about it already and she said she didn’t mind, as long as you promised to watch him and make sure he still passes his classes,” Daniela smiles lightly and Tony looks at her sideways, “you’ve had quiet the influence on her.”

“Well,” she shrugs, “I make sure Peter gets his stuff done on time and I help her out too.”

He nodded, “I know, that’s nice. You’re a good person.”

She shakes her head slightly, “I wouldn't go that far.”

**********

The two walk back into the compound to find everyone still taking off their gear. Steve nods to Daniela the moment he sees her, “Velikov,” she raises an eyebrow when she hears her name, “conference room in 15.”

"What for?” she asks while unzipping her suit and pulling her arms out, letting the top half hang around her waist, exposing her white undershirt, “Can't possibly be another mission this soon.”

"It's not," Steve says as he tucks his shield away, "we gotta give Parker a breakdown of some things, so bring him with ya.”

“Alright," she pats Peter on the back and he looks up from his phone at her, "I gotta show junior here to his room anyway,” she pinches his cheek and he pushes her away, causing her to laugh. She then walks around him to the other side of the wall and opens her locker.

"Where's his room?" Sam asks, while unbuckling his vest.

Daniela furrows her brows while trying to pull off a boot, “Um, I don't actually know?”

Tony audibly sighs while tapping on his phone, "He's across the hall from you, Dani.”

After pulling both boots off, she begins to step out of her suit, leaving her in just her spandex shorts and tank top, “Why me?" she continues while reaching for her jeans, ”I suggest putting him by Wilson."

"No thanks,” Sam chuckles, "he's your sidekick.”

"I'm not a sidekick,” Peter protests quietly.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x ofc #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #marvel #mcu #avengers #original female character #james barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #avengers fanfic #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel comics #bucky x reader #bucky #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan

[sc00tb00t]

-- shove off (i) ¦¦ j.b.b

bucky barnes x fem!avenger!reader

bucky barnes masterlist

words ;; 1.4k

contains ;; pet names, fluff, explicit language, enemies to lovers

warnings ;; pills (tylenol, nothing bad)

short summary ;; moving in was supposed to be fun, well you thought it would be.

a/n ;; i just wanted some domestic avengers so this came out of that want. 

𐬻𖤐𖤐𐬻

CHAPTER ONE

𐬻𖤐𖤐𐬻

it had been a week since you had finally moved into the avengers compound. you still had boxes in your room yet to be unpacked. steve offered to help you get organized but you didn't want to make him think he has to help so you turned the offer down. now sitting on your bed, you somewhat regret not taking the chance.

the first two days you were there you barely did anything, leaving your room was something you almost didn't do. according to nat, you left your 4 times, all to get food. over those first two days all you did was literally unpack half your clothes and set up your switch and xbox. you also slept, you moved all the way across the country for crying out loud, who wouldn't just sleep.

the third day you acquainted yourself with peter, vision, and wanda. immediately becoming best friends with wanda, it was like you two had known each other for years, since diapers. you and peter bonded over star wars, of course that day you wore one of your only star wars shirts. it was your favorite of the ones you had. vision and you really talk but he's definitely pleasant to be around, you can just tell he would be a good listener. 

your fourth was spent doing barely anything. you and steve hung out a bit, trying to get him to play mariokart but ending up just watching terminator. still being a little lagged behind, you ended up falling asleep during the second movie, judgment day. walking up in someone's arms was a nice feeling, the warmth and pressure was calming. steve was asleep when you woke up though so you ended up falling back asleep, not after admiring his features for a bit. 

steve is a handsome guy, no doubt about it but you didn’t like him like that. even if you did, there's no way he would like you back. you had your eyes on someone else though. you barely talked to him since you moved in, getting about 5 words in and that's it. before you moved into the compound, you barely exchanged words. 

day five. it was boring, the only thing that happened also was the highlight of your day. waking up to steve playing with your hair. it was so cute but then almost immediately after he realized

you had woken up he was apologizing like if he didnt he would die. “steve you're fine, i promise.” you probably said it over a hundred times in just that moment alone. you unpacked a bit more, ending up to talking to vision while doing it. he is a really good listener.

six and seven the same. more unpacking, ignoring people, and sleeping. that was the same with eight too. sort of a weird move but you didn't really care. you were getting tired of having to unpack things, you definitely brought too many clothes, you could’ve just bought some when you got here but no you didnt think of that until you started to unpack. at least you had a, what you considered, big room. 

at about 1 am on your eighth day, you finally finished unpacking. now it was time to get a schedule together, doing that was one of your favorite things to do. schedules for you are really just when you wake up, go to sleep, and work out. but it was still fun to do. accidentally staying up till 3 wasn't the best idea on your part but you didn't care that much. 

ring ring ring ring ring ring ring

time to get used to hearing that again. “why do i chose to wake up at 7” groaning sitting up, you have a raging headache which is not the best, considering you actually planned stuff to do today. digging through your bedside table, you realize that you don't have tylenol. 

“of fucking course,” getting up, your head pounds even more, you change into just a random sports bra, a hoodie and a pair of spandex shorts, that really accentuated your ass. quickly snatching your empty water bottle, you slip out your room heading to the kitchen. guessing some people are already up, you put your headphones in, not wanting to talk to anyone. 

once you get to kitchen, there's only one other person in there, bucky barnes. of course, of fucking course. the one guy in the building who supposedly doesn't like you. “where's the tylenol?” you ask him, filling up your water bottle. turning around, he doesn't do anything, he just keeps standing there. 

“hello? do you know where the tylenol is?” all he does is turn to look at you, then turns back, “find it yourself.” you aren't a morning person at all, the headache and now this, not helping your mood at all. “babe, just point to where the tylenol is, you act like i'm asking you to build a thousand piece lego set with no instructions.” spinning back around you grab the handle belonging to a lower cabinet so you can reach down and snatch a pop tart real quick.

in that time, the tylenol was on the counter near where you're standing. “wasn't that hard. thank you.” you open the small container, dumping two into your hand and closing the bottle. taking a sip of water, you dropped the pills in your mouth and swallowed. grabbing your water bottle and poptarts and start walking out of the kitchen, setting down the bottle next to the brunette. 

you did know where most rooms were, since you had gotten a tour from steve earlier last week. walking to the track, you ate your poptarts, since having put your headphones back in. 

⍟⍟⍟

an hour later, you finished your work out. dripping with sweat, you glupped down the rest of your water as steve walked in. “you need to tell your friend to not be such a jerk.” he tilted his head to the side, “who? bucky?” wiping the sweat off your forehead, you turn to leave. 

“yes, him.” before you could get bombarded with questions from steve, you seize the chance to quickly escape, making a b-line for your room. hating the feeling of sweat on your body. your room isn't that far from really anything, it's just a floor or two above everything. it felt like it was in the middle of everything. 

of course, right before reaching your room you run into someone, “i am so sorry!” you start saying before you even see who it is. looking up from your feet, you see your favorite person. bucky. “oh, nevermind.” you mumble under your breath, walking around him. 

“what did you just say?” you continue on walking, barely hearing him, your music was a life saver. his hand is on your wrist, well maybe music isn’t an amazing life saver. “what did you just say to me?” now you're looking at him, taking out one of your headphones, you come up with a smart-ass response. 

“well, it wasn't really directed right to you so do i actually need to tell you?” wiggling your wrist out of his grip, you start to turn to continue walking to your room. “no? okay, sounds about right.” answering for him, you pull your headphone back to your ear. 

⍟⍟⍟

it was now 10ish so you could wait a few hours before actually starting your day, but you did have to choose what you're gonna wear. it doesn't really matter though so you just snatch a pair of b- knock knock knock

“oh come on” you walk over to your door, think about who it could be then open it. to say the least your guess is wrong, now you want to die. it has to be the guy with an attitude and long, greasy-looking hair. what is with this guy? “what do you want?” 

—————————————————————————-

taglist 

@wheatmouthed-crimeboi , @buckssstuff , @thinmint2 , @mcugeekposts , @sunshinemunchkin , @seaveysinn , @kehlanibarnes , @mha-oi-oi-oi

#°.✮✮ sc00tb00t™ #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanfiction #mcu #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #peter parker #vision #wanda maximoff #natasha romanov #pet names #marvel movies #fluff #angst #non cannon #domestic avengers #avengers compound #captain america civil war #whats that #avengers endgames #steve rogers

[ljlokijinx]

Peter at some point probably, after having half a syringe of an unknown liquid injected into him: What the fuck is this shit?

The enemy: Oh it's just a tid bit of cyanide, you know like twice the amount needed dose to kill you. If you want the antidote, give up.

Peter: *cackles menacingly* I drink litres of Foxglove tea because it tastes good and gets me high unlike coke or vodka. This is like what *takes out the syringe still in his neck and takes a sip out of it* 50 mg of cyanide mixed with water? I won't even get tipsy from it!

Tony: Peter please-

Fun fact I actually helped myself with Google for the measurements. When I Googled the cyanide the answers where "mental health help" and suicide hotlines 😘

#im gonna call may! #peter thats not healthy! #dont you dare #avengers funny #avengers incorrect quotes #avengers incorrect scenarios #peter parker #spiderman #tony stark #sassy peter parker #peter fucking with the avengers since day 1 #peter doesnt give a shit #peters fast metabolism

[starkerhowlter]

Starker

Daddy Stark's Surprise (E) What Should Peter do to make this Valentine’s Day better and different than others? How can he make this one unique?

Why Peter Parker Can't Have Girl Scout Cookies (T) Clint and Natasha’s daughter is a girl scout, Peter is a sucker for Trefoils cookies.

Who's Your Daddy? (E) Peter wants to do something special for Tony. He surprises him by asking to top, but what if Tony happens to surprise him?

Natural (M) Photoshoots are boring when you don’t have a little bit of fun~

Too Much, Just Enough (M) Sometimes Peter needs the reminder that the scale can be deceiving. 

Old Man~ (T) Peter has started using TikTok. Which if you don’t know, is the BANE of Tony Stark’s existence. From Willy Wonka to weird Twerk Dances, Tony is losing his mind.

Grey (M) Peter's Grey. He feels nothing. Maybe if he lays here long enough, it'll go away.

Good Morning, Good Morning, Good Morning~ (M) “Good Morning, Baby” “What’s all this?”

I'm Not Sick (T) “I’m not sick, Peter!” “Friday, what’s his temp?” “101.2 degrees Fahrenheit.” “mhm.”

Spider On The Wall (T)  Peter loves sleeping next to Tony, he just wishes Tony knew.

Bathroom Floor (E) “I don’t know why we couldn’t have got to your car, Tony. Like, we already paid, we finished eating…” “Because, Peter, I couldn’t wait that long. I have wanted to ruin you all day since we got here and now I can.”

DeskWarmer (E)  “Alright, baby, but I have to get back to work so I can’t give you my full attention. You’ll have to be like a little rent-a-slut at my desk and keep me company.”

Painful Flowers (T) Tony never believed in soulmates. That is, until now.

Got A Secret, Professor Stark? (E) Peter Parker is the biggest badass in the Junior class at NYU, only Tony Stark knows the truth.

Don't Pull Away (M) Peter loves Tony’s hands in his hair. Tony loves having his hands in Peter’s hair.

Come Back To Me (M) “I know, I know you’re never ready for this. Just come back to me after, okay?” Tony nods as Peter kisses his neck, red lipstick print left behind.

Truth or Dare (T) Tony knows it’s a bad idea to invite the kid. He swore he told Steve and Clint to remove the alcohol if they were going to. They didn’t prepare for Thor bringing his own refreshments and spiking the punch, making sure everyone enjoyed themselves in true Norse style.

Like a Fucking Fairytale (T)  “Tony’s left the city for a fairy.” “Sounds like something out of a fucking fairy tale.”

Princess Parker (M): 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11 Tony Stark’s in love. But not with the conventional. Instead, his soulmate is known for temper tantrums about pink lemonades that are too sour and scuffs on the toe of his Louboutin shoes. He’s materialistic, superficial, and cares way too much about his face. So why can’t Tony stay away?

Stucky

Getting Rid Of Winter (M) "Steve, this isn't a good idea..." "Buck, I'm here. What's the worst that could happen?" "I go on a killing spree and destroy half of Brooklyn?" "Well," "Don't say it." "Yeah..." The man sighs, pulling his hair back into a messy bun, "Why do you want to try this?" "Because if we know it works, then I have a viable way to get you out of your murderous headspace if it's needed." Bucky nods, "True... But what if it doesn't work?"

Happy Valentine's Day Soldat~ (M) Bucky hates Valentine’s day. Every year Steve goes off on a mission the day before and doesn’t return until the day after. Every single year, Bucky is forced to watch the other Avengers give and receive gifts and schedule outings. All while he’s forced to worry about his love. This year won’t be any different, right?

40's Boy (M) 'When did he get to be so... cute?' Bucky thinks, shaking his head. 'No, he doesn't think that way about you. He's got all those girls that want him, he doesn't want you.'

Moodboards (Including moodboard embedded in others fics)

Baby in Blue by @khalixascorner (moodboard by me)

Cottagecore Starker

Christmas Starker

#starkerhowlter writes #nika writes #starker #tony x peter #stucky #steve x bucky #shut up nika

[sjsmith56]

Finding Jade - Chapter 1. Bleeding Daylight

Summary: A woman is found in the badlands of New Mexico and brought to the bunker of the Avengers. Unconscious and almost dead Bruce Banner treats her injuries with the help of Bucky Barnes, both of them wondering how she managed to survive in the wilderness where the Others, an alien species, are known to live.

Length: 2.5K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Peter Parker, Bruce Banner, OFC (unnamed in this chapter).

Warnings: Anti-social and angry Bucky, Bucky still in mourning after death of his wife and child, near death experience, despair.

Author’s notes: This story was inspired by a series of photo edits done by Instagram artist nixakimbo, depicting Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes and Peter Parker in an apocalyptic wasteland.

👽

The woman was almost finished.  It had been three days, maybe more, maybe less, since she left her mother and son in the Sanctuary to find help.  The Others had seen her, not near the Sanctuary fortunately, but they had still seen her.  They tracked her into the Badlands.  She knew the ground well, having hidden there as a kid before Ma found her and took her in. 

"Ma," she tried to say through her cracked lips.  "I'm sorry Ma, I died here.  No one's coming."

If she had any moisture left in her eyes she would be crying now but her eyes were dry, red and crusted with the dirt from her hands whenever she rubbed her face.  She tripped and the fall to the ground was agony as she tried to protect the wound on her side, the wound the Others had given her, the wound she was dying from.  She looked at her hand which had been over the wound.  It was bloody meaning the wound had opened again.  The wound the doctor whose name she had already forgotten had closed. 

"Fuck," she gasped. 

Slowly, she placed her hands below her and lifted herself to one knee, then upright, screaming as she did it.  Giving up wasn't an option, not yet, not when Ma and Ben were waiting for her to return to the Sanctuary.  Even though she knew she was dying she wouldn't give up, not until she couldn't get up anymore.  Five steps later she tripped again and this time she stayed down.  She lay there, dying, waiting for the darkness to take her when she felt someone turn her over.  Man, woman, she didn't know but they pulled her jacket open and pulled her shirt up then swore at what they saw.  It was a man's voice and she tried to open her eyes but there was no lubrication left for the eyelids to open.

"Help," she said, except it came out "Heh", if it came out at all.

She felt arms lifting her up and movement as she was carried to a vehicle and laid in the back seat.  They had a car.  How could they have a car when there was no gas?  But she heard the engine start up and even though the man, it was a man she heard, although she had already forgotten the voice, drove carefully each bump made her cry out from the pain in the wound the Others had given her.

"Hold on," said the man, yes, it was a man, "I'll get you to a doctor."

Doctor?  Were there still such things?  There had to be because she had seen one, in the desert when she was dying.  Ma had told her about doctors, healers, angels of mercy, madmen, killers, responsible for death.  It became harder to breathe and she knew this was it, death was in the car, sitting on the top of the back seat, looking down at her, rubbing its hands in anticipation.  Death had found her and it was bleeding daylight away from her and replacing it with the darkness.  She almost welcomed it because the pain would stop.  She had no regrets.  No, that wasn't true, there was a regret.  That she couldn't say goodbye to Ma and Ben.  I'm sorry, she said but there was no sound from her lips as it was all in her mind now.  That's all that was left, her mind and that one regret.  Then the darkness came.

Nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight

Lovers in a Dangerous Time by Bruce Cockburn

"Jesus, Steve," said the doctor.  "Where the hell did you find her?  She's more dead than alive."

Dr. Bruce Banner looked at the almost dead woman on the gurney.  Steve Rogers had carried her in from his vehicle yelling at Bruce for help.  He stood back as Bruce started checking her out.

"She came out of the Badlands," said Steve.  "I heard her screaming.  She had raised herself from where she fell.  Buddy alerted me.  Can you save her?"

"I'll do my best but she's severely dehydrated, in shock, and the wound...," Banner shook his head.  "It's from a weapon of the Others.  They did this to her.  I don't know how long the poison has been in her system but it looks bad."

Steve stepped back as there was nothing more that he could do.  Finding her out in the middle of nowhere was a miracle.  He felt a cold nose nuzzle his hand and looked down at his dog, Buddy.  It was him that alerted Steve to the presence of the woman.  He wouldn't have seen her on his own as her clothes were so dusty and dirty she blended into the landscape.  But Buddy knew something was out there and had whined, then given a single bark when he saw and heard the woman get up from the ground, walk five steps and fall again.

"It's okay, boy," he said, scratching behind the dog's ear.  "Let Bruce work."

He turned around and the dog of unknown parentage followed at his heel, devoted to his master.  Leaving the medical room Steve walked down the long hallway to the common room.  Bucky was making a pot of coffee, artificially flavoured coffee but it was what they had.

"She lived long enough to get to Bruce," he said, not turning his head.  "She might have a chance."

"The wound is definitely from an Others weapon," said Steve.  "We're going to have to find out where she came from and go after them."

Bucky stopped and looked at the wall before turning to his friend.  "It's a losing battle, Steve," he said.  "We get rid of one nest and two more nests pop up.  It's HYDRA all over again.

"Well, we beat them," he said, in exasperation.  "I can't...I can't turn my back on people, Bucky.  Being an Avenger still means something to me, even if you've given up."

Bucky had been holding an empty coffee cup but at the insinuation he had given up he squeezed the cup until it shattered, sending porcelain shards all over the kitchen counter.  He swore and used the dish cloth to wipe up as much as he could, dropping the pieces into the garbage container.  Then he poured himself a coffee using someone else's mug.

"I haven't given up," he said trying to sound objective as he faced the coffee pot.  "I'm just more realistic than you.  We can't save them all.  There's too many of them and not enough of us."

Bucky felt a hand on his shoulder.  "I'm sorry," said Steve.  "That was a low blow.  I know you still care, that you haven't given up.  Since Lily died you haven't been the same."

"I'm over it," said Bucky, unconvincingly.  "I just wish the baby had lived so I still had something of her."

Steve patted Bucky again.  "She was a good woman," he said.  "We all miss her."

They were interrupted by the arrival of Peter Parker.  He was in jeans and a T-shirt and opened the door to the cupboard looking for something.

"Either of you seen my Einstein coffee mug?" he asked.  "It was here an hour ago."

Bucky looked at the garbage can and didn't say anything.  Neither did Steve.  Peter gave up looking and grabbed one of the spare ones pouring himself a cup.  He plopped down on the couch and looked at the two.

"So, what's up?" he asked cheerfully.

"Found a woman on the edge of the Badlands," said Steve.  "She had an Other's wound.  I think we need to have a mission to locate the nest."

"Cool, I'm in," said the 20 year old.  "Is she still alive?"

"Bruce is treating her," said Bucky.  "But she was hurt quite bad."

Slowly, other members of the Avengers drifted in having smelled the ersatz coffee scent as it made its way to the residence section.  As more of them came in the noise level went up.   People started gossiping, laughing and telling jokes.  Bucky looked at Steve and smiled grimly.

"There's my cue to leave," he said.  "See you later."

Steve watched his friend walk down the long hallway.  Bucky was still very introverted even three years after the Snap ended.  He had close relationships with a few people but he didn't like being in a crowd.  Lily, his late wife, had helped him fit in better but since her death he had closed himself off a little more.  Steve heard someone call his name and he turned to the conversation.

In the long hallway, Bucky sipped his coffee and walked to the medical room door.  He could see through the window that Bruce was looking frustrated and stuck his head in the door.

"Do you need help, Bruce?" he asked.

"Yeah, just wash your hands well first," he said.

Bucky pulled his bandanna out of his pocket and tied it around his head to keep his hair out of the way.  Leaving his coffee on the counter he stepped close to Bruce and looked at the woman.  She was still dirty, covered in blood and dust.

"Could you undress her and clean her up?" asked Bruce.  "I've got my hands full with this wound but I can't see if she is injured anywhere else.  Just fill a basin full of warm water, put some of the disinfecting soap in it and swish around a face cloth in it.  Start at her abdomen and work up."

It wasn't what Bucky was expecting but he had offered.  Her jacket was intact so he carefully extracted her arms out of it and put it on a chair.  Then he scrubbed his hands, prepared the basin, and determined where to start.  Her tank top was already torn apart from the weapon that caused the wound so he got a pair of scissors out and cut it away.  She wasn't wearing a bra.  Wetting the face cloth he gently cleaned her abdomen near where Bruce was working on her wound.  Grimacing he cleaned her breasts then her shoulders and neck, noting her sunburnt tan line followed the tank top.  Then he cleaned her arms.  So far there didn't seem to be any more wounds.  The water in the basin was filthy so he poured it into the grey water reclamation unit and filled it up again.  Using a clean facecloth he cleaned her face, especially her eye lids which were crusted over.  He was struck at how delicate she seemed, and young.  Her face was unlined, very fair, and her pale eyebrows made her seem even fairer.  She was maybe in her early-20s.  It was hard to tell for him.  He had thought Lily was younger than 20 when they met and hadn't even thought of becoming involved with her.  When he found out she was 32 he was blown away.  He preferred an older woman as they had more life experience and less expectations of the perfect man.  Shaking himself out of his reverie he emptied the second basin and started a third one.

"Bruce, do you want her back cleaned?" Bucky asked.

"I haven't even looked at her back yet," he replied.  "Hold on, I'm going to put a dressing on the wound then we can both turn her.  She's going to need a top to wear.  There are some scrubs in the cupboard over there.  I'm sure there's a top that will fit her."

Both men gently turned her over and Bucky started cleaning her back as Bruce went to get a top for her.  As Bucky washed her back a tattoo appeared between her shoulder blades.  It was only visible when it was wet, once it dried it lost its colouration and was invisible.

"Bruce, have you seen this before?" asked Bucky,  showing Bruce what he had discovered. 

The doctor whistled.  "She's a unicorn," he said.  "Not literally.  She's associated with a religious sect, Children of Adam, but they haven't really been around since before the Millennium.  Based on her hairstyle and clothing I would say she's not a member anymore but the tattoo is usually applied when they are children.  Don't say anything to the others.  They were connected with some doomsday groups at one point.  Until we can talk to her I don't want to make assumptions."

Bucky nodded and finished cleaning her back.  He asked Bruce for a comb and combed the dirt and debris out of her pale blonde hair before gently washing it, leaving the basin on the floor to catch the water he carefully poured to rinse it.  Then he dried it with a towel and combed it through again.  Bruce helped to sit her upright and they pulled the scrub top over her head.  He handled one arm while Bruce handled the other.  Bruce noticed her jeans were filthy and pulled a pair of scrub pants out of the cupboard.  Together they removed her pants and pulled on the scrub bottoms.  Satisfied Bruce patted Bucky on the arm.

"You're a good nurse, thank you," he said, smiling. 

Bucky nodded and poured the dirty water into the reclamation unit.  Then he used a disinfectant wipe to clean the basin before putting it under the UV cleaning light.  The towels and face cloths went in the disinfecting laundry bag.  He went to his coffee mug and drank it, making a face because it was now cold.  Looking at the clock he was surprised to see he had taken almost half an hour to clean the woman.  He looked back at her and realized he hadn't cleaned her hands.  Putting the coffee down he got another basin, filled it up with soapy water and cleaned her hands, even using the edge of a dull scalpel to clean the dirt out of her fingernails.  She wore a plain gold band on her left ring finger.  Married...interesting.  Bruce noticed Bucky looking at the ring.

"She's had a child as well," he said.  "Stretch marks, very faded.  You probably didn't notice but I did.  I wonder where it is."

"Bruce, let me know when she wakes up," said Bucky.  "I'd like to be here when we ask her what she was doing in the Badlands."

He cleaned the basin and left it in the UV cleaner.  Waving goodbye at Bruce he made his way back to the common room to microwave his coffee.  It wasn't as crowded in the room now so he sat next to Steve.

"I just helped Bruce clean the woman up," he said.  "She's wearing a wedding band and Bruce thinks she's had a child.  Someone might be missing her so I guess you're right, we should investigate.  I'm in."

Steve nodded smiling.  Bucky sometimes took time to warm up to an idea but once he did he was all in.  He had already formed a squad of himself, Peter, Clint, Maria and Sam.  Once the woman woke up and they talked to her they would head out to the Badlands.  He asked Bucky to check the ammunition stocks, knowing that he likely already knew what state they were in.  But it would give him something to do while they waited for the woman to come around.

Chapter 2>>

Series Masterlist

Please like, comment and/or reblog if you enjoyed this.

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #marvel avengers #apocalyptic fiction #alien invasion #bucky barnes fanfiction

[scattered-winter]

Tell me abt ur correct mcu timeline

this is completely divorced from marvel comics since the mcu is a totally different continuity. it's my house now <3

Captain America: the First Avenger

1941 - Steve gets his powers (age 23) 1942 - the Howling Commandos are organized August 1945 - Bucky "dies" (age 28) approx. a week later - Steve crash-lands in the ocean (age 27) September 1945 - WWII ends

Captain Marvel

Nick Fury doesn't lose his eye to a fucking CAT. instead, he loses it to someone close to him who he once trusted before losing his eye in a climatic battle that forever changed how he deals with people. because in THIS house I don't fucking make my badass characters into a fucking JOKE (forever pissed at how they built Nick Fury up as this badass amazing character who is implied to have Been Through Shit to make him as slow to trust as he is today and then when the time came to shed some light on his story they....turned all that into a joke with the fucking cat. biting tearing maiming.)

Iron Man 1+2

Tony Stark does his thing and is really really obnoxious about it. idk it's been a while since I've seen these but that's pretty much all he does so w/e

Thor

chef's kiss. you stay exactly the way you are, thor 1

The Avengers

Phil Coulson being revealed to not be dead near the end, and thus leading into Agents of SHIELD would be kinda cool narratively, but it's not a must because Coulson's reveal in AoS is pretty badass as it is.

Thor: the Dark World

another chef's kiss

Iron Man 3

Tony Stark moves on from Iron Man and destroys all his suits, and actually sticks to the decision. he only appears in future movies as tech/support, if that. sincerely, someone who can barely stand Tony as he is and fucking hates it when he completely takes over someone else's movie :/

Avengers: Age of Ultron

Ultron is still the main antagonist because it's a fascinating concept, and the rest of the movie largely happens as written except Quicksilver doesn't get killed off because let's be real that was CHEAP. if you're gonna kill off your characters at LEAST do it in a believable way smh.

Captain America: Civil War

this is . a fun one. Tony isn't in the movie at all (<3), and there is very little conflict/screentime with the Avengers because that's a stupid ass thing to do in a Captain America movie. the plot centers around Steve and Co. evading global authorities while trying to prove Bucky's innocence in the UN bombing. no stupid Tony-centric plots and petty arguments in my good Christian Captain America movie

Black Widow

idk I wanted to see her early days in SHIELD. I wanna see how she met Clint and how two very very mistrustful people got to be so close. to be clear I don't ship them and I love their friendship so ideally this is for the aros and the aces <3333

Black Panther

chef's kiss. couldn't make it better if I tried <333

Spiderman: Homecoming

TONY!!! ISN'T!!!! IN IT!!!! <3!!!!!!! instead, the story focuses on Peter Parker (already operating as Spiderman since we've seen Uncle Ben die approx. 3700000 times) trying to become a true hero blah blah you get the idea

Thor: Ragnarok

CHEF'S!!!! KISS!!!!! from this point on, he never fights with a hammer (or hammer equivalent) because the entire POINT of the movie was to establish that HE DOESN'T NEED ONE !

Avengers: Infinity War/Endgame

hooooo boy. I can't even think of a way to fix this one. it's just not there anymore <3333333 and I also can't fix anything that comes after these movies just because it's all so convoluted and fucked up at this point it's beyond repair. but there's definitely no Dr. Hulk, and Steve doesn't go back to live with Peggy because fuck that bullshit

tldr: I don't fucking get rid of character development every time it happens <3333 I let the characters change and grow naturally because I know how to tell a fucking story

#hi sorry this ended up turning into me being angry <333 #but i can't fucking stand tony stark as a character ANYWAY and when he started taking over everyone ELSE'S movies too??? #gnawing biting tearing #and also the fact that each character's development was reset with each new movie?? yeah no fuck that bullshit #it's hard to have correct opinions about the mcu but i bear it well #anti mcu #mads 🧠 #every time i try to add to anything post-endgame i just. get too tired #there's Too Much To Fix. i choose my mental health over trying to bang out the dents of a sinking ship

[illyanapryde]

Just me talking about how much I hate the MCU and how it’s ruining the comics because bla bla bla capitalism

One very major flaw of recent comics (I’m talking about the last decade-ish) is that, in hopes to benefit from the financial success of the MCU, comics began to change the personalities, looks, backstories, costumes, and aesthetics of their characters to match their MCU counterparts.

Before an MCU fan spouts some bullshit like “Well it shouldn’t matter because it’s still the same character and if you’re a true fan you should love them anyway,” I simply can’t help but struggle to enjoy seeing everything special about my favorite characters be retconned. It’s one thing when the MCU adapts my favorite characters and changes them beyond recognition, but at least I can live with that because I can simply not watch MCU content. It’s another thing when the MCU’s same shitty changes are made in the comics, effectively ruining that character.

A prime example is the terrible jokes. Before 2008, comics would mostly have little to no humor. And if/when they did, it would usually be the focus of the story (Deadpool’s entire character for example). But following the release of Iron Man, comics began to change to mimic MCU!Tony Stark’s silly little one liners that somehow gave Marvel Studios a blockbuster hit. What I’m about to say is just personal opinion, but I honest to god hate the “comedy” in the MCU. A couple movies pull it off by making it the focus of the movie (Thor: Ragnarok and Ant-Man 1+2), but for the most part, the inconsistent dry humor is awkward and boring. I didn’t realize this until The Batman, a movie that consistently maintains its dark aesthetic, came out and my mind was blowed by the cinematography. My best friend @gothictoxicc pointed out to me that that movie was so good because it didn’t ruin every dramatic scene with a dry joke that ruins the vibe. Anyways, I fucking hate that I can’t read a new Avengers comic without finding several random jokes that ruin the seriousness of the situation at hand.

Another example of an MCU fuckup that dripped into the comics is Wanda Maximoff. Oftentimes when a character is adapted to the MCU, their 616 version is subsequently drawn to look exactly like their MCU actor, despite that character clearly looking very differently for decades prior. Now if you’re an MCU fan you may be wondering why this is so frustrating for a comic fan, and I’ll tell you. It’s because of whitewashing and lightwashing. Wanda’s been around since the 1960’s and often has a distinct look (kinky/curly hair that’s either auburn or brown depending on the illustrator, and sometimes other ethnic features such as a hooked nose, tan skin, and dark eyes) yet once Elizabeth Olsen was cast in the role, Wanda began to be drawn like this in the comics. The erasure of Wanda’s ethnic features for the sake of pale skin, straight hair, and green eyes matters because Wanda is Romani. However now, her whitewashing is more easily excusable by MCU fans because “she looks white in the comics anyway.”

Side note for paragraph above: The same thing has happened with many other characters such as Natasha Romanoff, and although it’s not necessarily bigoted in any way to draw Nat like Scarlett Johansson in the comics, it does make me want to cry every time I see it.

While we’re on the subject of things that make me want to cry, let’s talk about Clint Barton. In the comics, he’s rocked a lot of funky (honestly the best adjective for them) and colorful costumes that make him stand out and look easily identifiable in comics. However, since the MCU is goddamn boring, they put Jeremy Renner in all black and called it a day. Following that, 616!Clint started dressing like a boring loser. I personally can never forgive the MCU for stripping Clint of his camp (I’ve never used that word but it feels right) outfits.

MCU influence changing the comics: Honorable mentions:

- The entire GoTG team being changed to fit their MCU counterparts in both looks and personalities. I’m talking Gamora, Peter Quill, Nebula, Groot, etc. Literally all of them.

- A younger Black Nick Fury was introduced to the comics following Samuel L. Jackson’s popularity in the MCU (which I have no problem with because who doesn’t love Samuel L. Jackson)

- Loki is now portrayed as morally grey rather than an evil little slut

- Magneto and the Maximoff twins suffered that atrocious retcon where they were revealed not to be Magneto’s children, nor to be mutants at all. This happened as a result of the dispute between Fox (daddy company of the x-men movies) and Marvel Studios over rights to the Maximoff twins, whose terms were unclear because Fox claimed rights to mutant characters while Marvel Studios claimed rights to Avengers characters, and the Maximoff twins were both. To simplify things, the twins had their origins changed in the comics so Fox wouldn’t be able to claim them. Ultimately, the two companies agreed that Marvel Studios could include both twins but had to kill one off, and Fox could include the twin that would be killed off.

#mcu fans i do think i’m better than you #my pussy is fatter and my brain is bigger #it’s simple facts

[just-fandomthings]

everything you said about Captain Britain on my post on my sideblog, I 100 FUCKING PERCENT AGREE!!!

It also bothered the hell out of me in the first episode of Ms. Marvel that at Avengercon, no one was dressed in Sam’s Cap suit?? And there was nothing to do with him at all?? Like that had ALL that Avenger’s merch/meet-n-greets with cosplayers/signs up and everything but yet they couldn’t do ANYTHING for Sam?? REALLY??

Like, if Ms Marvel is set somewhere in 2024 and Sam became Cap in May of 2023, then there would be plenty of time for people to be fans of Sam! You’d think people would be fans of Sam as Falcon for years anyways (cause he was a Avenger whereas Bucky wasn’t even one and people forget that)! His suit is cool as hell, why wouldn’t people want to cosplay it and have fun with it?? But Marvel Studios THEMSELVES continue to ignore Sam’s presence and importance while they continue to hype of a lady who we all watched literally die in a movie that came out 8 years ago…

The battle to get people and the MCU themselves to care about Sam and recognize his importance is just exhausting… I just can’t wait for Anthony to bring in a stellar performance that knocks everyone’s socks off in Cap4 and hopefully it gets some people to see how incredible he is. It’s sad too that he has to prove himself to the these people when he’s being proving how amazing he is for the past 8 years ugh.

SKY I WAS JUST ABOUT TO SEND YOU AN ASK ABOUT THAT POST BC YOU SAID EVERYTHING I WAS THINKING JUST IN A MUCH MORE WELL-SPOKEN AND WELL-PUT WAY!! Seriously that post was SPOT ON, and it is so infuriating (although not surprising) that this is still a conversation that needs to be had.

I forgot to mention Avengers-Con from Ms. Marvel in my rant but yes!! There was even merch for Groot?? GROOT who was on earth for how many mins in Infinity War and then how many minutes in endgame?? When Sam has been saving earth for YEARS. SAM SHOULD HAVE HAD HIS OWN MERCH/COSPLAYERS/ETC THERE!!!

And looking back at Sam’s time as Falcon, he was involved in the community a lot, both for his time in the VA and as an Avenger. He would have easily been a household name just like Captain America and Iron Man. So you KNOW that people in the MCU definitely looked up to him as their hero, admired him, and created merch for him. Yet we, the audience, don’t see that because they don’t show us anything about Sam. Unless I’m mistaken, we have not gotten a single mention of Sam since TFATWS. Even with Kate Bishop, Peter Parker, and Kamala Khan all being massive fans of the Avengers, there’s still no mention of Sam??

And yet, we get to see Captain Carter. We get to see promotions for her. And we don’t get that for Sam, who is actually Captain America!!! The racism both in the fandom and at marvel is apparent and appalling. Anthony has been fantastic since day 1 and somehow has managed to improve an already stellar performance?? He’s incredible!! He’ll absolutely knock Cap4 out of the park. But marvel and the fandom refuses to acknowledge that SAM IS CAPTAIN AMERICA. It’s so frustrating. Anthony deserves better. Sam deserves better.

#sam wilson #steve rogers #captain america #SAM WILSON IS CAPTAIN AMERICA

[ao3feed-irondadspiderson]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43741557

since i've been loving you by frogboyfrog “peter. we’ve both been down in the lab for three days.” peter furrowed his brow. “so it’s… what? sund-” peter froze. “oh, shit.” his back pain, which he had been experiencing for the past hour or so, suddenly made sense. “i missed my shot.” tony opened his mouth slightly. “ah. fuck. kid-” “it’s- it’s fine. nothing i haven’t been through before.” he said, before another cramp wracked his abdomen. OR: trans peter forgets to do his testosterone shot, ensuing his period, and enlists the help of his boyfriend (ned), his dad (tony), and his sister (morgan) to help him Words: 1078, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 22 of my father’s son, Part 9 of trans peter parker, Part 2 of that's the way of the world verse Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen, M/M Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Ned Leeds Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Ned Leeds/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) & Tony Stark Additional Tags: Trans Male Character, Trans Character, Trans Peter Parker, Transitioning, Medical Procedures, Kinda, Peter Parker Calls Tony Stark "Dad", Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Precious Peter Parker, Peter Parker is a Mess, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark are Siblings (Marvel Cinematic Universe)

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #iron dad and spider son #spider son #iron dad #peter parker #tony stark