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d-romanov · 5 months

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float around and ghost my friends

[title- phoebe bridgers. natasha romanoff x teen!reader, minimal platonic peter x reader]

2.5k words

You didn’t have a normal childhood, but you mama encourages you to have a normal highschool experience and lets you go to a party. It doesn’t quite go how she wanted, or how you expected.

trigger warnings: underage drinking + drinking to cope, suicidal ideation?, depression, it’s sad ngl but it’s got a hopeful ending (probably)

Living your life after a childhood of pain and misery is hard, it is so, so hard. You wonder if the man across the street is just a stranger or someone there to take you back, if the light flickering meant someone had found you, if the loud noise down the hall was a body against a wall. God, if you started thinking too hard about it you wouldn’t stop.

Thank god high school would only make it worse!

Growing up as a Hydra lab rat they still had to keep you occupied, lest you go catatonic and ruin their tests. You saw plenty of shows and movies about high school, about how important the dance next saturday was, when everyone’s classes were, the like. You understood, to an extent, that parties were a big deal. Parents went out of town, kids got shitfaced, snuck back into bed past “curfew.” fun times.

It’s been a little over a year since you were found by the Avangers, and just a few months since Natasha Romanoff finalized the adoption paperwork for you. Even if you couldn’t call her mom as much as you wanted to you were happy, truly content for the first time in your life. You had friends, family, and a mother who wanted nothing more than for you to enjoy your new life.

Which is why, when peter had invited you to a party being put on by someone in his class, your mom urged you to go.

—

You haven’t been sleeping much in the last few weeks. Insomnia and trauma-induced nightmares were taking their toll on you, but you could handle a bit of sleep deprivation. Besides, you weren’t about to concern Natasha more, she’s had enough on her plate lately.

No, no matter how long you stayed awake shaking, shivering, not breathing waiting for a sound in the hallway, you wouldn’t bother Natasha. Though, that didn’t stop you from being a bit more clingy during the day before calling it a night.

“It’s an opportunity for you to have fun outside the tower, детка, you should go.” You sat cross-legged on Natasha’s bed, watching as she put away laundry. It was calming. “I’m only a call away if you and Peter wanna ditch, but I want you to enjoy yourself.”

Her encouragement throws you off. “You know what happens at those parties though, don’t you?” You shift so you’re laying down against the pillows, “Shouldn’t you be making me stay home?”

Natasha laughs. “Hon, highschool parties aren’t nearly as crazy as movies make them out to be, and i know you. It’s not like you’re going to get wasted or make out with any boys.” You pull a face and Natasha laughs again, and you laugh with her.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” She presses a kiss to your forehead and you smile up at her.

“I’ll go.”

—

You’re already regretting it, and you’ve only been in the house for 20 minutes. Peter don’t ditch you per se, but you haven’t seen him since you settled on the couch. The music pulses through the floor and you can feel the bass in your teeth. You’re pressed in at the far end of the couch hugging the armrest, clutching a soda can in one hand and hovering over Natasha’s contact in you phone with the other. A bark of laughter from the kitchen throws you out of your thoughts and you notice someone pouring out shots. somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder when the last time you had a drink was, to which your brain unhelpfully answers “too long.”

Aside from anesthesia, the best pain relief you had in your old life was alcohol. You understood that it wasn’t healthy, even back then you knew that, but it kept your thoughts from racing and helped you sleep at night.

A small crowd was formed around the kitchen counter, and you watch as two boys get locked into a fierce competition of Cup Pong.

You watch one of them, a lean, blonde boy from the soccer team, fading fast. only two of his cups have been emptied, he’s clearly a lightweight and already wobbling by his third shot. The other boy is one you recognize from your history class. he’s loud, obnoxious, and goading on the other boy who’s finally thrown the ping pong ball properly and landed it in a cup.

The loud one sinks in another two balls, and you see the blond visibly swallow. you don’t know what comes over you because in the next moment, you down his two shots in one go.

“Woah-hoh-hoh! looks like someone’s up to the challenge!” His face breaks into a shit eating grin, “Too bad you picked a battle with the undefeated champ here.” you hear a few whistles in the growing crowd and smirk, You can feel the buzz hitting your head and it feels good, you feel good for the first time in days.

“Undefeated, huh? Well, this is gonna be really embarrassing for you then.” You’re cocky, but you don’t care, you just wanna get drunk.

He quickly bounces another ball, landing in your forward cup, the second misses. Your two land and it’s a battle keeping your face straight. Your opponent is intimidated, but he hides it behind a grin and his height, but he’s too obvious. You know he’ll hit his limit far sooner than you’ll hit yours, so you tease him a bit.

To throw him off, you miss your next two throws, and his second lands. as soon as the cup is empty you begin to sway. you’re in no drunken state, there’s barely a buzz at this point, but he doesn’t know that. As far as he knows, you’re just as much of a lightweight as the blond before you.

He’s hiding his own swaying body by leaning forward on the counter, but you can see in his eyes he’s getting drunk, and thanks to the alcohol of choice being vodka, it won’t be much longer before he’s out. You were hoping for a bit more fun, but his head start in the is game threw that off a bit. You strike fast. Two balls, two cups, one throw, it’s impressive to the crowd but for you it’s child’s play. He down the cups, slower than before, and you can see sweat forming on his forehead.

He misses his next throw and you can’t stop yourself from being a bit disappointed. then again, you only have one cup left versus his, you huff a laugh.

“I mean, it’s a little unfair of me to be beating you. You had a head start in the game, why don’t we level it out?”

The crowd is rowdy and you see his face twist into a grimace. He’s getting agitated while you’re loosening up, happily putting on a show for everyone around you.

You pour yourself two more shots and take the one after the other. You revel in the burn, you feel lighter, higher, ready to put this stupid kid in his place.

—

You win that game, you win two more games, and everything becomes a blur. You think your phone buzzes a few times through the night but you ignore it in favor of pouring yourself another drink and laughing your ass off. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt normal, and even if you don’t know anyone’s names they’re funny enough, and you can forget about the past for the night.

You’re not noticeable in school, you hide yourself in the back of the class and only talk to peter and his friends. You’re allowed to leave class whenever you need to thanks to a plan you’re mom had set up with the school, so it’s not like you usually stick around enough to talk to anyone. You’re just some new kid lost in the crowd there, but now, here, people are talking to your face instead of whispering behind your back and avoiding eye contact. you finally feel free.

You get up and unsteadily return to the kitchen for another shitty bear. You look over your shoulder and throw your hands out. “Peter!!” you shout, ending in a giggle when you see his face, he’s looking at you funny. “hiiiii!!”

“Are you drunk??” Oh never mind, he sounds mad.

“Nooo?” You giggle again, he doesn’t believe you but you don’t really care.

Peter rubs his hand down his face and starts to guide you to the door.

“Where’re we going i was having funnnn,” You whine, pushing against his insistence you leave.

“(Y/n) i already called natasha, now drink this and sit tight.” He’s frustrated and hands you a water bottle, you pout and plop onto the grass, lazily sipping at the bottle.

You’re not sure how much later it happens, but Natasha’s car pulls up on the curb. She steps out and she looks pissed, if you had any energy left you’d probably be scared. “Hi мама,” even drunk and half asleep you still know you sound like a pathetic mess, and right now you really just want to catch up on all the sleep you’ve missed.

She kneels down next to you on the grass and moves your sweaty hair from your forehead, you notice her face soften. “Hi малышка, let’s get you home.”

“Are you mad at me?” You blurt out. Your voice is small, and you don’t mean to sound so weak but the alcohol in your system makes you feel vulnerable. “I don’ want you to be mad at me i was jus’ so tired.”

“No hun, i’m not mad. We’ll talk in the morning when you’ve sobered up, now up you get.”

If you weren’t so out of it you would’ve seen the heartbreak cross her face.

She hoists you up with your arm over her shoulder, and you’re grateful for it because without her you’d have fallen face first into the dirt.

You hear her ask Peter to open the door, and as soon as you’re in the car you’re out like a light.

—

Anyone could tell from a mile away that Natasha loved you. Since the day you were found she’d always cared and wanted the best for you. You were the child she’d always wanted, and she’d do anything for you. And anyone could tell that seeing her kid so small, so sad, was breaking her heart.

Peter’s phone call had been confusing, something about you getting too competitive to think straight and then too drunk to stand. She’d shown up expecting a slightly drunk teenager, not you. Not you sitting in the grass, on the curb, nursing a water bottle and looking so utterly defeated. She didn’t know what to do, she just wanted to take all your pain away.

Getting you home was the easy part. Apparently, getting you out of the party had also sucked all of your energy, and you were cooperative getting in the car, hell you were asleep as soon as the door shut. Natasha dropped Peter off at home before returning to the tower, after getting some context to the situation of course. Now it was time to get you to bed, and figure out her next steps.

—

“Mmmn?” You can barely open your eyes, everything just feels so heavy and faraway. Behind squinted eyes you recognize that it’s Natasha pulling you from the car.

“Come on sweetheart, let’s get you to bed.”

Your short nap didn’t help you much. “‘M tired,” You croak out, cringing at the taste of your dry mouth.

“I know you are bub,” She pull one of your arms over her shoulders and leads you through the tower’s garage to the elevator. “That’s why we’re gonna get you cleaned up in into bed.”

Your response isn’t more than an affirmative grunt, but you can get the words past your throat.

Eventually, after a blur of motion and lights and almost getting sick on the way up, you’re in your room. You don’t want to be in here.

Natasha guides you to your bed, keeping you steady as you sit down. Before she can pull away your hands grip her shoulders like a vice.

You don’t even realize you’re crying. “Don’- Мама don’t leave. Please don’t leave.” You don’t want to be alone. You just want to sleep but you can’t sleep because when you sleep your mind attacks and attacks and attacks and you can’t keep dealing with this forever you’re so tired.

“Hey hey, no i’m not going anywhere детка. Im not leaving, but i need you to breathe, please.” You can’t stop yourself from closing your eyes. You hate the way she’s looking at you, she looks so sad and you’re the one doing this. God look at you, look how pathetic you’ve become.

“I ju- I just wanted everything to stop. i wanted to be normal in sorry. i’m sorry мама i’m sorry i’m just tired i’m sorry.” The words get caught in your throat and choked out in a sob. You try to pull back, hide in you pillows and shut out everything, but natasha’s returned grip is solid and fierce, yet gentle, and kind, and she pulls you into her chest as you fight every cry that bubbles up.

“Let it out малышка, don’t fight it. It’s okay, i’ve got you. I’ve got you, love.” Her hold on you grows tighter and you can almost feel your chest open just from her words. No matter how much you were taught and built against it from birth, Natasha was your lifeline.

Minutes or hours later, you’re cries turn to whimper and the bone-deep exhaustion makes itself known again. Your arms feel so heavy, you can barely keep your puffy eyes open and you just want to sleep for the next month.

“Hey,” Natasha says it so softly she’s worried you’ll miss it, but she doesn’t want to startle you. “Let’s get you changed. I’m just gonna grab you some pajamas, okay?”

You must’ve nodded, because natasha moves and you faintly hear your dresser draws move. You’re half asleep as natasha helps you change into comfier clothes, you’re eyes aren’t even open once she’s tucked you and herself into bed and holds your head to her chest.

“I love you so, so much малышка. Got to sleep, okay? I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Your answer is a whisper “I love you, мама.”

You’re out like a light, you limbs heavy and mind blissfully quiet. Natasha hardly sleeps, thinking only about you and the conversation you need to have.

——

part 2!!!

#mama nat #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x daughter!reader #natasha x teen reader #peter parker x platonic reader #my writing

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marvelflame2010 · 11 months

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Peter: If you don't help me, I will make your life a living hell.

Y/n: How?

Peter: How?!

Peter: I will call you a lot. I will tweet at you like crazy. I will LIVE on your Facebook wall.

Y/n: We're not Facebook friends

Peter: Yeah, what's going on with that? I mean, it's been 6 months

#incorrect marvel quotes #incorrect avengers #avengers incorrect quotes #incorrect avengers quotes #marvel incorrect quotes #marvel incorrect #peter parker incorrect quotes #incorrect peter parker #peter parker #incorrect spiderman #spiderman incorrect quotes #peter parker x platonic reader #spiderman x platonic reader

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no-te-lo-voy-a-dar · 2 years

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Reprise

Chapter 1 - Not Yet

Fic’s Summary: You are an Asgardian who’s on Earth after a series of events, who ends up taking a spiderling teen vigilante under their wings who’s intrigued to figure out if the other vigilante mentor the kid has is really who the stories tell, wanting to see if it’s true no one can sneak on him or surprise him. But you are the best friend of certain trickster, and some tendencies have rubbed on you…this shall be an entertaining challenge.

Author’s Note: this chapter shouldn’t even exist yet, i have important irl stuff to do, but this moment of brainrot some days ago lasted me enough to still write this. It’s been a while since i’ve written anything for a Reader insert but @raelwrites and her works have been very inspiring and serotonin enducing, so, here we are. i have an unfinished spn fic (which, i was writing as i watched the season it takes place in…im still stuck), a witcher one in ao3 and so many on drafts but hey, we are for the vibes.

no beta reader, this is all on me

Main relationships: Loki/GN Reader (Platonic), Peter/GN Reader (Platonic), [Future] Matt/GN Reader (?)

Warnings: none for this chapter i guess, but well, eventually there might be some usual canon violence and insinuations at not very nice events, but i’ll mention/tag those when needed.

Next Chapter >>

(gifs not mine)

Chapter’s Author’s Note: this is mainly like, introduction of R’s situation, as well as some dynamics that we’ll see later on (let’s pray whatever fixation i have right now allows me to juggle all my fics). Matt is not on this chapter yet but there’s plenty of Loki and Peter, me thinks

tagging: @catmanbowser (look at this absolute madness)

Word Count: 5,068

Midgard was…boring at best, so far.

Sure there were a bunch of foods and drinks you were trying for the first time, thrilling flavours and interesting uses of ingredients still surprising you, as well as sweet treats, and Internet seemed to have a bunch of recorded plays you could watch again and again from the comfort of your chambers, but you couldn’t just go out and ride a horse around if you wanted (apparently), and training had become harder to do when your strength was naturally higher than most of those living under the same roof (and the humans you have learned are stronger in the place you are staying in can’t train with you daily anyways). Not to mention you couldn’t hunt your food and you were missing the certain thrill of providing for your housemates as well as doing small things with the skins and pelts.

Sure you could train against Loki and Thor, or just one of them, but Thor wasn’t there all the time, and it’s been a long time since the training you have with Loki had become more of a coordinated dance. You were too in sync for it to be a true challenge.

And you missed the stars. Old Norns did you miss them.

For some reason you were yet to comprehend, the Midgardian night sky didn’t have visible stars where you currently were. Even when Thor assured you they were visible in other places of this planet, the current area you were bounded to was dark and plain at night, making you long for the Asgardian sky. Apparently human technology has cut their connection with the celestial bodies.

But! You were here, on “Earth” for a reason! A mission of sorts.

When the Dark Elves started attacking Asgard, you will forever be thankful to the Old Norns for the fact you were escorting Jane Foster, Thor’s human beloved, as requested from the prince himself, around the palace and wherever she wished to be. You were on guard duty, because Thor didn’t really trust anyone else to protect Jane and treat her with respect. You were not to leave her alone, and thanks to that, you managed to avoid Queen Frigga being killed while defending the human.

She was still injured that time, but after disposing of the enemy and making sure Jane was as okay as she could, you were quick to work on your Queen’s injuries with magic. Healing Seidr wasn’t your strength, as it never is for a single individual, but you got her enough time for the actual healers to arrive and aid her.

Thor had been incredibly grateful, hugging you and carrying you on his shoulder like you were children again.

Loki, on the other hand and somehow, learned that he had sent who could have been his Mother’s killer on her way from his cell, had a breakdown over that and it wasn’t until Frigga herself went to talk to her kid that he seemed to snap out of whatever terrors and doubts plagued his mind.

So, things were written and orders were given for Loki to be sent back to Midgard along with Thor to “pay for his crimes against the humans and offer compensation” or something like that (Odin’s way with words and orders was never your favourite, too many loopholes or unclear instructions) when the battle against Malekith and his people was over with. And you were asked by Frigga and Thor themselves to join the princes.

‘Sometimes my brother seems more like your brother than mine!’ is what Thor told you while patting your back after the hearing with the Throne. Which just means Thor wanted help with guiding his brother’s moral compass.

And you were okay with it really, always up for adventure and learning opportunities. And Loki seemed particularly more relaxed when you agreed. And how could they not! You were their best friend after all, and you were proud of it, no matter what happened. You had a lot of time after and during the preparations for Loki and Thor to catch you up on all what happened since the failed crowning ceremony to the first Dark Elves attack.

With that you felt like the three of you fell into place again. Chipped at the edges, new scratches that didn’t match and some faded colours, but you were in more coordination with each other than you’ve been in decades.

You had known Loki and Thor since you were kids, your family being part of the system and rotations of personal blacksmiths the Royal family had for themselves thanks to your usage of Seidr. Magic had always been present on your bloodline, from both sides of your parents, and while they never really trained it, they made sure to use it to make weaponry more durable and special, infusing it with different conditions, catching Odin’s father’s attention millennia ago and working for them since then.

Members of your family always were well trained in combat, because when a new design was asked for you had to try the weapons, checking balance, durability and how much it might or not vibrate after clashing against other weapons.

Thanks to this, Odin seemed interested in your already good fighting skills as a kid, and sent Lady Sif (when she was just Sif) to battle you, at the time covering saying that he wanted the both of you to test weapons for Thor and Loki, eventually inviting you to his sons’ and “friends” private training sessions.

And you say “friends” because all of you had been picked by Odin to be his older son’s closest teammates, planning for you all to have his back as adults and for him to have a reliable close court when he took over the throne. So, at the time you all weren’t really friends, some of the others more eager to get close to the blonde prince than others, true, but ultimately enjoying having people your age to train with.

But due your family’s inclination with magic, you ended up catching the younger prince’s attention by simply not mocking him for using it sometimes during training, instead asking him how he did certain tricks. They must have told Frigga because not even a season after you started asking Loki to teach you had passed and the Queen had personally asked your family for permission on teaching you beyond what your family’s knowledge was (magic shields, basic wound cleaning spells and some silence covers, using sound and wind manipulation so your movements weren’t trackable, nor the rattling of your armor or weapons on your back).

They were honored to have the Queen teaching you, of course, and you even taught them other spells and poultices to wear between hands and gloves to keep them cooler when handling the forges. But they didn’t seem to like you were closer to the younger prince, particularly more so when he started gaining his trickster reputation and word of you joining him in some of the pranks reached them.

But, you were left to be, and although it wasn’t your favourite activity while growing up, you often seemed to be a buffer of some kind between Thor’s main friends and his brother, along with the older prince himself. And you could always fight them if things got too heated, even offering to wear magical cuffs so you weren’t “cheating”.

You always won, which left you bragging and smug about it. But you were also aware that Sif would be a bigger challenge and probably beat you some times, but she wasn’t the one getting angry at Loki over nothing (yes, you let him get out of the trouble and mess of cutting Sif’s hair on his own).

So, you had a solid and nice relationship with the Asgardian princes and agreed to come to Midgard but, since you were also a new face among Thor’s human brothers and sisters in arms, you weren’t really trusted to go on missions with them until they had tested you enough.

But some progress seemed to have gone down the sewers after you mentioned your magic (manifested in deep yellows and gold sparks and colours, differently but complementary to Loki’s green) and started speaking of how Loki and his mother taught you a lot. That seemed to put some people on edge, particularly the archer whose name you could just remember, at the time, had something to do with Hawk.

Whatever, you were fine spending time with Loki, catching up, braiding their hair, practicing your illusions and trying to cook some Asgardian meals with Midgardian ingredients. You both will be okay, and the rest of Thor’s human team will see.

+++

The first to actually join you and Loki in training and talk to you like you weren’t plotting to blow the whole Tower down was the youngest one, the Spider themed kid.

“Peter Parker. Aren’t you Stark’s genius little mentee?” Loki interrupted the kid’s seemingly endless questions about the Bifrost’s magic.

Ah, Peter Parker. Right. Loki was always better with names than Thor or you, or the whole gang back then, only being equally good with memorizing names by Sif.

“Yes? Kind of? I don’t know, anyways, as I was asking, what’s powering the machine you use to make interplanetary jumps?”

Loki was too stunned in general to properly pay attention to the questions, and while you knew you both could answer them, you were too wired and full of energy to burn, the young warrior having stopped both Loki and you while in the kitchen, grabbing some water and snacks to take to the gym. So, an idea came to you.

“Say, young Parker, what if we make a deal?”

That managed to stop him in the middle of whatever rephrasing he was in, and caught the attention of Loki too. Peter arched an eyebrow and leaned back slightly. Good, some doubt could save your life.

“Could you elaborate on that?”

“Well, I’ve heard Thor say you have an impressive strength and reflexes for being so young, and after hearing Stark talk about you I used Internet to search about Spider-Man, your title while on the spider themed suit if I’m correct, and you can stop and lift those big metal boxes of transportation you have, so, what if you join Loki and me on training, no magic from our part, and after we answer all what you want about the Bifrost?”

Loki sent you a glare of them not understanding what you were even planning or thinking, but shrugged, letting you know they were okay with whatever it was. It was harmless, really.

“You promise to not use magic?” the kid leaned back in, but he still had his face scrunched.

“Not today, sure. At most, the only magic you might see me use would be to cool our water bottles or summon us some towels.” you twirled your hand to demonstrate, the kitchen counter yellow towel popping on your hand, and you twirled it again to put it back where it was, although crumpled now.

That seemed to catch the kid’s attention, his mouth opening slightly and his frown being replaced by wonder and curiosity. You winked at Loki with a smile, and they snorted while rolling their eyes, a small smile on their face.

Peter’s eyes went from the towel to your face, then to Loki’s (who arched an eyebrow at him) and back to you.

“Okay, sure. Let’s go to a training room.”

“Yes!” you did a small gesture of victory, to which the other two laughed slightly. You were excited to finally get to train with someone else who you didn’t know for centuries. And he must be a great fighter! What with being Stark’s menteé and visiting the Tower often.

Right?

+++

He wasn’t.

Sure, Peter Parker wasn’t completely helpless in a fight, there was some training there, but very basic. The start of it. And he could dance around your punches and kicks with a great level of grace, but the moment you and Loki coordinated your attacks, still no magic, the kid started struggling.

You were currently on a break, Loki leaning against the wall, you mindlessly spinning a stick around like you would your spear were you taunting someone, and Peter sprawled on the floor.

“What do you mean Stark didn’t train you?” you tried to not show your anger but this was a child in every sense of the word.

“And still doesn’t, remember.” Loki’s voice was detached, but you knew him better than to know that’s how he felt, he just knew that between the two of you he was the one being monitored by the voice in the Tower.

Peter groaned before answering.

“Guys, it’s okay, really. I started doing this almost two year ago on my own, before Mr. Stark even knew about me.”

“Okay, that’s a whole other thing to talk about, but I don’t think we are the best to judge when you started going out and fighting, much less with our perception of human age but you are already a small child anyways.” Loki was nodding along your words, and Peter dragged his hands over his face while sighing. “And okay, but what about after? Why do you come to the Tower so often then? Do any of the others train you?” Norns, you sounded like your own father and Queen Frigga.

“I mean, sometimes when they have time and I do too they spar with me and give me tips. Natasha is the one that helps me the most? But she’s, really busy, and I come here to work on tech projects with Mr. Stark, mostly.” Peter was sitting down now.

You tilt your head, trying to understand what Peter does with the short man.

“He means they work on armor and things like the phone you have and other Midgardian things they use to substitute magic or to get a basic version of some of our own technology.” Loki translated to you and Peter smiled while nodding.

You hummed, while still flipping the stick on your arms and back, launching it to a dummy on the back of the room before talking again.

“What if I offered to train you?”

“What?”

“I could help too.”

Peter’s and Loki’s voices clashed, and when Peter’s brain caught up with what the prince said, turned his head faster than you’ve seen him move before, only to get a small smile and a shrug from the God.

“I don’t have a lot to do while imprisoned here Parker, might as well do something productive and useful. Besides, if my friend here is going to teach you, you will want someone to make sure you learn the proper stances and not whatever they’ve come up with over the years.”

“Hey!”

Peter chuckled at that a little, and twirled his fingers with the string on his pants, pondering the answer to give you.

“I mean, I already have someone who’s willingly training me on a solid schedule, but I would like to complement his training with whatever you could teach me.”

“Is this person the reason you at least know how to stand and throw punches without breaking your fingers?” Loki asked, the amusement both visual on his smirking face and audible on his voice.

“Yes? But the backflips and dodging are mostly me.”

“Yeah I bet.” you whispered, originally thinking only you and Loki would hear it, but when Peter huffed and frowned at you, you were surprised by the realization this enhanced human also had better senses.

Hmmm, whenever you and Loki started training him with magic things will be interesting.

+++

You trained Peter two days a week, one during school days, when he didn’t have to go join Stark and the other during saturday evenings. Whoever was training Peter had fridays scheduled with him, but after some time you started to guess they meet more often than once a week.

Peter was a fast learner, but after a big improvement of his basics you and Loki stopped noticing big chunks of advancement, which was normal, but were highly surprised by Natasha, the Black Widow, joining you both for a lazy dinner one night.

Most of the Avengers were in the Tower that week, so Loki and you had been allowed to go out to the city, being told there were enough of them around to restrict Loki were he to go rogue, so you two were kind of tired that night after coming back. More so when Thor asked to spar right after you entered the common area.

So when Romanoff took a seat in front of Loki and you, you startled a little, being slightly dozing off while slowly eating at your cereal until then. Loki was more conscious, although he just pulled his plate with cookies closer to him while eyeing the spy.

“Relax, I’m not here to take your food or attack you, I just wanna chat.”

“Mmm, no, yeah, that just makes you sound more suspicious.” was Loki’s answer, which was honestly funny because it was nothing but an obvious remark, so you couldn’t help the throaty snort you tried to cover with your hand. Natasha arched an eyebrow at you, but it didn’t feel angry just…amused.

“Fair. Right to the point then: thank you for helping Peter. He’s greatly improved since last time we trained together and when I asked him about it he said you both had a hand in that. And another person he didn’t mention but I’m pretty sure of my guess over who that is, based on the fighting style. But your styles were more present, at least today.” Natasha made a pause on her small speech, probably expecting or allowing either Loki or you to make a comment, but you were too stunned to speak surprised (and slightly embarrassed) to say anything.

She smiled and continued.

“Peter was dragged in with us by Tony, but he's…not really done anything to help him other than toss him an improved suit. Which has done a lot in the sense of offering him protection, Peter himself has told me how much less he’s gotten slashed and stabbed now.” the spy fondly smiled at that, probably remembering the teen saying that in a highly excited voice, one Loki and you have heard before. “Bucky and I try to do our best into teaching him how to fight, because he truly lacked any form of formal training, but well, we are busy with Avengers stuff most of the time, so I’m grateful you both took time and patience to do so.”

With her speech finished, she stood up from the small center table, going to make herself some tea, and you turned slightly to look at Loki, hoping to see an answer on how to proceed, but you saw him with raised eyebrows, surprise written all over his face.

So, you were going to answer then. Great.

“You are most welcomed, Agent Romanoff. It has been a pleasure and fun to train young Peter, not to mention it has given us both more to do around here. He’s a sweetheart and I’m pretty sure he’s gotten everyone here wrapped around his sticky fingers, Loki included.” the last comment was meant to be a playful jab, you bumping shoulders with your friend, but when Loki started talking you realized he wanted to be truthful right then, at least regarding Peter.

“My friend here is right, he’s a delightful young man, and I’m proud of him. From what you are telling us, he’s truly been picking up, and knowing it’s helped keep him safe is all we could truly ask for.”

You could see him slightly blush, faith blue (which after the revelation of his heritage explained that; young you thought it was due his own magic) tainting his cheeks, but you decided against teasing him. This time.

Natasha nodded before taking a sip of her tea, and over thinking the talk was over but feeling comfortable with the silence, you went back to eating your cereal, shaking the box in her direction in a form of question and offering. She shook her head and you shrugged. Loki offered her a seat again, and she took it, and you all spent the next minutes in peace.

You were preparing the usual spicy hot cocoa Loki and you had after particularly odd and long days when Natasha stood up to leave, but before turning a corner and leaving your sight, she spoke once more.

“I will seek you both later to schedule a sparring match. The three of us only, and maybe Barnes if he’s up to it. Would you be okay with it?”

You shrugged and nodded, looking at Loki because really, he was the wild card here.

“Of course! I would appreciate the chance of fighting you under more fair rules, and I’ve heard Rogers and Barnes are both enhanced so it must be interesting.”

With that, the spy softly smiled and left.

Neither Loki nor you brought up all of what had happened into conversation. You both were there and just needed to think a little to understand it. And that you did, while curled up together watching a cooking competition show, Thor arriving and flipping on top of you both, laughing at your groans and playful shoves.

You fell asleep between the two dork royal siblings, content and excited for things to start getting brighter for Loki.

+++

Things indeed started getting a lot better at the Tower after Natasha and Bucky became sparring buddies with you both, Barnes even once going out of his way to ask Loki to spar with him, both using nothing but (training, blunt) knives. Loki was vibrating out of the seat when asked, trying to keep composure because it had been months since he was allowed near even fake knives, only allowing him to use the kitchen ones under supervision (the Tower Voice being said supervision most of the time).

After that the next ones to approach Loki were Rogers and Wilson, and in your case Barton and Banner. Mind you, you mixed some last names on occasions, and forgot their titles still, but you were working on that.

Training Peter was still a given, and Loki was allowed and invited out of the Tower more and more, sometimes Rogers even asking for Loki to glamour them up so they weren’t recognized and could enjoy in complete peace their walks or whatever. Eventually Loki was allowed out on his own with nothing but a tracker he was pissed about wearing but allowed it for his own sanity.

You were allowed out on your own weeks before Loki of course, and used this to walk with Peter a lot, who enjoyed rambling about his city, about places he thought you would enjoy, about things he wanted Loki to try and everything in between, even retelling how he got into thigh fights in some places of the city.

You were currently in an area Peter had called Soho, doing emphasis in how it wasn’t meant to be confused with England’s Soho.

Curious, you had asked if he could show you the place where he trained with Daredevil (whose vigilante name you’ve gotten simply because Natasha had asked Peter one day, just to then tell him that if he ever did something wrong to or with Peter, that he could trust them, to tell any of the members at the Tower. That day it was only Natasha and you training Peter, Loki being out in the city with Barnes and Thor, but you could see Peter tense a little at how the spy said ‘you know Stark cares about you’. You saved that reaction for later, but Peter had just asked how she knew it was Daredevil, and that it was okay, he was surprisingly more soft once he learned Peter’s - Spider-Man’s - age).

Peter seemed to have been thinking about it, but you reassured him it was more out of curiosity than protectiveness nor trying to see if “the place was up to expectation”. A partial lie, but Peter said that Daredevil was very, very protective of his identity, perhaps as much as himself, but how the older vigilante was more aggressive in his approach regarding the secret, while Peter was more of an anxious ball. It made sense to you, really, after all Peter was still a child, and already with a lot on his shoulders.

You nodded, already having made up your mind about dropping the topic, when Peter’s voice sounded again.

“I could take you to the neighborhood it’s in it tho. It’s in an area called Hell’s Kitchen, which is known as Daredevil’s territory, even when, if asked, he’s okay to accompany and help other vigilantes outside of his area, but he doesn’t have a transportation method as fast as myself or Mr. Wilson.”

“I’m not going to lie that the area’s name causes me more questions but if you are comfortable with giving me a tour of said place, and it won’t make Daredevil angry with you, then please, lead the way.”

Peter seemed to light up at how his offer was taken positively, and started to talk about how he had meet Daredevil by accident before meeting Stark, having wandered into his area chasing some guys from Brooklyn, and how the older vigilante didn’t like the idea of Spider-Man being an actual kid, how Peter stayed away from Hell’s Kitchen after that, but reaching out tentatively when the Sokovia Accords were being spoken about, because the few things he could find out about them weren’t good for his “after school activities”, and noticing how Daredevil seemed to deflate, a tired sigh leaving his mouth, and explained to him why they were simultaneously good and bad, the bad having a stronger weight if some things weren’t taken away or properly managed.

Peter continued, you making some questions every then and now to keep Peter on track of the main story. It was fascinating. No one had managed to get a lot of information about the other vigilante who trained Peter because almost no one even knew someone else was training him. And it was obvious how much the kid respected and looked up to the older vigilante, while still making comments and jabs at things he didn’t agree on, but from what you could tell, even when the stories were being told from the teenager’s perspective, it was clear he cared about Peter.

And it picked up your interest.

Every adult you’ve meet on Peter’s life had a slightly different approach when it came to protecting and supporting him, and while some were sure that physically he could protect himself pretty well, others taught him things from a more strategist point of view, or gave him life advice, or just the chance to ramble about his last project (cookies for his aunt, a science project, a tech improvement to his suit) so hearing the kid talk so excited about Daredevil and his friends (whose names he almost slipped several times before coming up with nicknames for them) made you smile fondly at him.

You and Loki were smart, as was Thor (even when he couldn’t figure out most of Loki’s lies and tricks on the first try), when it came to keeping up appearances and reading underlying truths from people’s behaviors, so the three of you were sure that something happened between Stark and Peter that made the later not really trust the metal cladded man as much as apparently others were sure he did. You were also pretty solid on your belief that Natasha knew something was up (if she didn’t already know exactly what), same with older Hawkeye and Barnes but kept appearances for Peter’s sake.

You weren’t going to push anyone to tell you, but you knew this is one of those things that would eventually come into light for you.

In the meantime, the protective nature you had developed over the centuries by being Loki’s best friend urged you to find Daredevil and make sure he was who Peter claimed him to be, that this man of unknown identity to you was a good role model or at least behaved accordingly when around Spider-Man.

So after getting some pastries from a place in The Hell’s Kitchen which Peter seemed to like a lot, eating them in a park and walking some more while talking about the urban art of the neighborhood (the place seemed to really like their vigilante, or at least respect him enough to create murals to honour him) and just about little adventures the kid had with the small horns suited man, you made up your mind.

You were going to start tracking down Daredevil the days you knew Peter wasn’t going to be with him and, if you deemed it necessary…talk with him, to make sure Peter thrived and wasn’t going to get back stabbed (Loki knew a lot about it, after all he learned to do so after being the victim. You also learned about it because eventually you gained some reputation by being the younger prince’s close friend).

That evening you told the Asgardian princes about your plan and while Thor frowned a little at your lack of faith on 'young Peter’s" judgment, he didn’t say anything about stopping you. Loki grinned, and told you how the idea and plan was delightful, supporting you on it and confessing he had been wanting to do the same for a while. Although not as…peaceful as your plan was.

You might have leaned into the taunting and teasing nature the trickster god had by growing up so close to him, but you weren’t as prone to violence and physical encounters as the two brothers. Then again, that’s in comparison to the two of them. According to Barnes, you were still a very energetic being, always up for a fight and a challenge.

So.

It seemed you would be spending some nights around Daredevil’s lair for the next weeks.

You weren’t sure what but something about the idea made you excited, almost vibrating with energy and looking forward to hunting down in Hell’s Kitchen what was obviously it’s territory’s predator.

Let the chase begin.

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book-place-incorrect-quotes · 11 months

Text

Peter: *Hanging from a chandelier, screeching*

Bucky: *yelling and jumping while trying to get him down*

Tony: *walks into the room* What the hell is going on in here?

Y/N: *calmly eating popcorn and recording* I dared Pete to wake Bucky up from his nap. Popcorn?

Tony: … yeah sure

#tony stark x reader platonic #tony stark x reader #tony stark #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader platonic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader platonic #avengers x reader #avengers incorrect quotes #mcu incorrect quotes

3K notes · View notes

literaryavenger · 2 months

Text

Can I be him?

Summary: When Bucky finds something of yours, he hopes against hope that you feel the same way about him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language cause it's me. Fluff. A lot of angst. Idiots in love. Self-deprecating thoughts, both reader and Bucky. No use of Y/N. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 4.8K

A/N: It’s 3am where I live, so… Happy 107th Birthday to my favorite Supersoldier! Today I’m posting 2 Bucky fics because my baby deserves it, this one and another one sometime around the afternoon. Hope someone likes it! Thank you to my angels @ordelixx and @mrsbuckybarnes1917 that gave me so many ideas that helped me finish this. I love you🖤

Masterlist

Being an Avenger is not easy.

The long missions, the intense training, the weight of the world on your shoulders…

Everybody on the team has a different way to unwind after a mission: Steve draws, Clint and Natasha compete doing target practice, Thor sleeps, Sam plays video games, Bucky takes motorcycle rides, Tony and Bruce work on side projects in their lab, Loki reads, Peter does his homework and Wanda cooks with Vision.

For you, it’s going to the rose garden behind the Compound.

It’s a bit of a sanctuary for you, Tony allowed you to put tall hedges of roses with a gazebo-like structure in the middle of them facing the lake, only it’s entirely made of vines.

You made it yourself, that’s your power: you can manipulate anything plant-related.

Everytime you finish a mission the team splits up as soon as the debriefing is over and you walk straight here.

You sit on the bench, also made of vines, take out your diary and start writing.

You write about everything, from details of missions to your feelings about the team. From things you did that you don’t want to forget to things that you want to do after you’re not so tired anymore.

The hedges hide you from view and the only thing you can see when you’re here is the lake.

Sometimes, after a particular difficult mission, you don’t even write. You just sit there and look out into the water, the sunshine or moonlight shining down on you, and you feel at peace.

It helps that nobody else ever comes here. The team understands it’s your safe space, and the agents are mostly scared of your powers ever since you grew a giant carnivorous plant and it bit an agent that squeezed your ass during training.

The agent got both taken to the medbay and suspended on the same day, and you got the thanks of about a dozen girls that had the same problem with the same asshole.

You walk out of the conference room, the debriefing of the team’s latest mission just wrapped up, and like usual everyone scatters to their own after-mission ritual.

Today, though, you can’t concentrate on anything.

Your feet take you to the rose garden by reflex, but your brain doesn’t even register you’re there until you sit on the bench.

Today’s mission took a lot out of you, not just because of the amount of magic you had to use to get everyone out safely, but also because it was your fault the team was in so much danger in the first place.

You fucked up your task, Natasha had to step in and save your ass, moving away from her post and making her late for her own task and that derailed the entire mission.

At the end, you had to use your powers to take out the hundreds of Hydra agents at the same time, which is no small feat and made you almost pass out.

Everybody told you on the way home not to worry, the mission was successfully accomplished and everyone made it out safely, but you know that if it wasn’t for your screw up the team would’ve gotten in and out of base without so much as a scratch.

Nobody had fatal injuries, thank God, but Sam got shot in the leg, Clint got stabbed and everyone else had various degrees of injuries because Hydra got the jump on the team.

Because of me.

That was all you kept thinking about. Your brain had a field day making up all kinds of scenarios where your mistake cost someone’s life, a few of them even had the entire team dying because of your stupidity.

You were so caught up in your head that you didn’t even notice someone following you to the rose garden.

Not that you ever do.

If there’s one thing Bucky Barnes knows how to do, is move around undetected. He’s a master assassin, he was trained for this for over 50 years, he knows how to be a shadow.

Except now he uses his skills for good during missions and, occasionally, to follow you.

Not in a creepy way, of course, just to check on you. At least that’s the excuse he always uses so he won’t have to admit to himself that what he does is, indeed, a little creepy.

But he can’t help himself, Bucky knew from the moment he saw you that he was fucked.

The moment you walked into the room to meet the team his heart was yours. You stole it with one simple smile, with one look of your beautiful eyes.

You introduced yourself and shook hands with everyone, but when you looked at Bucky he felt like a light came on and it was just you two.

You shook his hand and he felt like he had to take it off and give it to you, it was yours now. His hand, his arm, his leg, his head, his heart, his soul. Everything he is was now yours, he just knew it.

Then you said his name and he could’ve died right there and then. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, and it was barely two syllables. Every word you said, every laugh and sound that came out of your pretty mouth, Bucky felt like it was all for him. Nobody else mattered.

Bucky knew then he was in love.

But he didn’t know how to approach you. You were like a fairy, like a princess. Growing flowers, always smiling, baking, growing everyone’s favorite flowers and always willing to help, like growing Aloe when Wanda burned herself cooking, or Chamomile to help with Tony’s anxiety, or Valerian roots whenever someone was feeling down.

You were like sunshine and he was terrified he’d kill your light. But he’d be damned if he’d let the world kill it either, he’d protect you with his life.

So he took to following you, making sure you were safe from a distance.

But it’s not like he never talked to you, the more time you spent with the team the more comfortable Bucky got around you and eventually you became friends.

Bucky knew you could take care of yourself, you were one of the strongest members of the team, but he didn’t like it when you were in your rose garden by yourself. The tall hedges made it impossible to see incoming danger, so he kept an eye on you just to be sure.

For his own piece of mind. And you never saw him.

That was Bucky’s actual way to unwind after a mission.

He’d tell everybody he was going for a ride on his bike, but he’d drive it through the woods around the compound and to the other side of the lake where he’d have a perfect view of you without you knowing.

Deep down he knew it was a little creepy, he could just ask you if he could join you, but he felt like you needed your time alone without anyone else around, and he knew if he asked you, you’d say yes no matter what you were feeling, because that’s just the kind of person you are.

So Bucky watched you from afar, always careful not to be seen. He watched you write for hours, it relaxed him to see your beautiful face so concentrated.

Sometimes you’d laugh quietly at what you were writing and those were the only times Bucky was grateful for the supersoldier serum that allowed him to hear such a beautiful sound even with so much distance between you.

But it was torture for him when he knew you had a bad day. Sometimes you’d hug your knees and cry, Bucky could tell how much you’d need a hug, and it killed him that he couldn’t just walk up to you and hug you.

Everytime he sees you cry his heart breaks a little and he always tries to make you feel better when you walk back inside. He doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, he just tries to make you laugh. But all he wanted to do was dry your tears.

You did notice Bucky always seemed to act a little goofy when you're feeling down, like he somehow knew, but you never thought much of it.

You knew he was a very observant person, so you assumed he just saw your mood through your behavior better than most.

Bucky loves hanging out with you, even if it’s just as friends. You make fun of him like with everyone else, you don’t treat him like could explode at any moment, never walking on eggshells around him like most people do.

You’ve never been afraid of him, and he’s glad that you don’t treat him like glass. You treat him like everyone else, and it makes him feel normal.

Everytime time he hangs out with you, you take him back to a time where he was unbroken. You make him feel alive again.

And he falls more in love with you by the second because of it. You’re all he wants, he wants to have you and kiss your lips and never let anyone hurt you. That’s all he can think about, but he knows that’s not gonna happen.

He heard you talk to Natasha and Wanda, heard that there’s someone you’d gone on a few dates with. But Bucky knows that guy doesn’t deserve you, nobody does.

Even Bucky himself doesn’t deserve you, you’re too pure for anyone in this world, but if there’s someone that has any chance of making you happy, Bucky prays to God that that someone is him.

Bucky knows today’s mission shook you deeply. He knows you blame yourself, and no amount of reassurance will make you believe that everything is okay.

So today, for the first time, Bucky actually follows you. He can see your unfocused eyes even as you walk and he wants to be near you, just in case.

He almost walks to you when you curl up on the bench and start sobbing quietly, but he holds back not wanting to startle or upset you further.

He just listens to your soft cries until you stop and compose yourself. You sigh and get up, walking back to the Compound to take a much needed relaxing shower.

But you’re still so much in your own head that you don’t even notice you left your diary on the bench in the gazebo.

Bucky did notice, though.

He’s tempted to call after you and tell you, but something deep down tells him not to. He waits until you’re gone and then walks to the bench, picking up your diary and opening it.

He doesn’t know why, he knows it’s wrong, these are your private thoughts, but he’s just drawn to it for some reason.

When he starts reading he notices you don’t mention any specific names, which makes sense because only you read it, you know who you’re writing about. He reads a page here and there, reading about your missions or lazy days.

He reads about some memories with the team you wrote about, some he remembers and others he probably wasn’t there for, but seeing all these memories from your point of view does something to him.

It makes him feel connected to you, makes him feel like he’s reading your heart and soul, because he kind of is. Then he reads something that captures his attention completely.

You write about eyes blue like the ocean and just as troubled, about a smile that could light up the world. You write about someone with a complicated past that never lost his spark, never lost his love for life.

A man that went through hell, and never once took it out on the world. A man that didn’t ever blame the world, even when he had every right to, choosing instead to protect it.

You filled pages and pages with everything you admire about this man, everything you love about him that you know he hates.

And Bucky feels like every word you wrote, you wrote for him. But could this be him? Could he be the one you talk about in all your stories?

He wants to. He wants this to be him. He prays you’re talking about him. He wishes this could be him… Who is he kidding?

Of course it’s not me.

It’s probably the guy you’ve been dating. Yeah, that’s it. You’re in love with that guy, that much is clear.

Bucky gets to the page where you write about your dates with the guy, but he can’t read them.

He closes the diary, not knowing that you compared your date to Bucky every step of the way. Not knowing that you granted the guy a second date just to be sure he couldn’t compare to Bucky, and went on a third date at a coffee shop just to let him down gently.

Bucky didn’t read how you know he’s the one for you, he didn’t read his own name written in your handwriting, the only name in your whole diary because he’s the only person you never want to forget, even though you know you never will.

But Bucky didn’t read that.

He puts your diary back where it was on the bench and, with his heart broken and his hope that one day you could be his lost, he goes back inside and to his room.

It’s only when you go back to the rose garden after your shower that you notice you left your diary there, but don’t think much of it. Nobody ever comes here anyway, as far as you know.

After finding out you’re in love with someone else, Bucky can’t stop himself from acting differently towards you, which you don’t fail to notice.

It’s not like he’s mean, but your interactions get shorter, like he tries his best to end the conversation quickly.

He no longer sits close to you, no longer tries to make you laugh when you’re feeling down, doesn’t hang out with you as much during your down time and if he does, it’s never just the two of you anymore.

It’s silly to say, but you miss him.

Bucky knows he’s been distancing himself, he knows you’ve noticed and he can see it’s affecting you, but he’s doing this to protect himself.

He knows it’s only a matter of time before you present your boyfriend to the team, the man you’re in love with and he doesn’t want it to hurt more than necessary.

You decide not to push Bucky, knowing he has his reasons to pull away from you. Maybe he’s just trying to deal with all the stress the team’s been under and you don’t want to add any more to that, so you let him be.

A few weeks later the team’s on their sixth mission in just as many days and everyone is exhausted. You’ve been taking down Hydra base after Hydra base, because waiting too long meant losing your chance to shut down their operations for good before they got the opportunity to leave.

You’ve been dividing in smaller teams to take down the bases while still giving the team a chance to recuperate, but this last one was the biggest and required the whole team together, which sucked for you because you were in the last team with Steve and Bucky that took down a base just yesterday, so the three of you got barely a few hours of sleep while you flew to the last base.

You’ve cleared the base, all that’s left is the agents in the courtyard who are really going down fighting. The whole team is outside now, the Hydra agents giving you a hell of a fight. You’re using your magic against your better judgment, giant vines coming out of your arms like whips, covered in poisonous thorns. One touch of that and anyone would go down immediately, everyone except you.

Or at least that’s what you think.

As you’re fighting you can see an agent trying to sneak up on Bucky who’s fighting near you, so you quickly take care of it for him.

Bucky turns around and sees the agent down and then looks at you with that charming smile you fell in love with and winks at you. “Thank you, doll.”

That’s the friendliest Bucky’s been towards you in weeks and you can’t help but smile back with a small blush.

You can see the last agent standing coming at you from your peripheral vision and you quickly whip him with a vine, taking him down as soon as you can so you can turn back to look at Bucky, still smiling at you.

Bucky’s smile drops quickly, though, as he sees your face draining of any color. You barely have the time to register the sting of your own thorn on your arm that you’re already falling to the ground.

Bucky tries to catch you, but he gets thrown back by your magic that goes into defense mode, creating a wall of thorns to protect your now unconscious body.

The team doesn't know what to do, none of them know enough about plants to be sure that these thorns wouldn’t just kill them all.

The only one that would know that is you, the person that’s passed out, or worse, trapped in the midst of a cocoon of thorns.

“Okay, we need to find a safe way to-” Steve starts but cuts himself off almost immediately. “What are you doing?!”

Bucky doesn’t even turn around to answer, too intent on breaking the thorns around you with his metal arm, not caring that the thorns are ripping his clothes and scratching his face, all he can think about is getting to you.

He finally manages to get through to you, but nobody can follow because your magic regrows the thorns Bucky broke, trapping him with you inside the cocoon.

But Bucky doesn’t care, his eyes never leaving your face as he kneels behind you, running a finger softly along your cheek and shivering when he feels your skin is cold as ice.

His mind goes to the worst possibility, that there’s nothing he can do, but his brain gives him some hope reasoning that your magic wouldn’t be working if you were dead.

Right?

He snaps out of his thoughts when he feels the thorns around you vibrate, he takes you in his arms and shields you with his body from whatever is about to happen.

But the only thing that happens is the shade cast by the thorns gets replaced by sunlight. Bucky looks up and realizes Wanda used her magic to lift the thorn cocoon.

“You couldn’t have done that before?!” Bucky barks at Wanda with a glare while carefully picking you up to take you to the Quinjet.

“She’s not the dumbass that threw himself headfirst in a mess of thorns without even considering another course of action!” Natasha came in Wanda’s defense, though she seemed more amused at Bucky’s antics than annoyed.

As the team heads back home in the jet, Bruce examines you and lets the team know you’re still alive but in a sort of coma.

Their relief is cut short when Bruce makes it known that he has no idea when, or if, you’ll wake up.

As soon as the Quinjet lands you’re taken to the medbay and hooked up to machines, an IV in your arm to keep you hydrated.

Bucky holds your hand through it all, staying all night next to you just in case you wake up. He didn’t want you to be freaked out and alone, he wanted to be the first person to see your beautiful eyes open.

When morning comes, though, you’re still unconscious, but Bucky doesn’t lose hope. You probably need a good sleep.

That’s what he tells himself for two, three, four days.

That’s what he keeps telling himself for a week, two weeks. Never once leaving your side, not eating unless Steve brings him food and makes sure he eats before leaving, and using the bathroom of your room in the medbay.

He barely sleeps and, when he does, he dreams of you.

Everyone was getting worried about him, he refused to leave your side until one day Steve came into your room to tell Bucky there was something wrong with your rose garden.

Bucky was torn between staying with you and seeing what Steve was talking about, but decided that it would kill you if something happened to your roses so he had to make sure everything was okay when you woke up.

Because you’re going to wake up.

Bucky follows Steve to your rose garden, and his eyes widen in horror as soon as he sees it. The roses, the hedges, the vines.

Everything is dying.

Bucky’s heart breaks, only one thought in his mind. If your plants are dying, does that mean you’re slowly dying too?

No. That’s unacceptable. You’re not gonna die, not if Bucky has anything to do with it.

He takes it upon himself to take care of your garden, watering it and doing everything he can to keep the roses and vines alive, fooling himself into believing that this will keep you alive.

He stays on the gazebo day and night, sleeping on the bench, spending every waking moment trying to keep a hold of even the smallest part of you.

But it’s not enough. Nothing is enough.

Bucky loses track of how many days he’s been in your garden, sleeping maybe an hour at a time here and there, watering the roses every few hours and crying the rest of the time.

After all it’s his fault, if he hadn’t distracted you none of this would’ve happened. You’d be in your beautiful garden, probably with your boyfriend, and the only broken thing would be Bucky’s heart.

That he could’ve lived with.

But how can he live with the knowledge that he caused your end? That he killed your light? That he killed his sunshine, his hope, the love of his life? He can’t live with that.

Not that he has to.

While Bucky’s spiraling while surrounded by dying roses, inside your room in the medbay you’re finally waking up after almost a month.

You open your eyes slowly, looking around you at the hospital-like room. There’s nobody around and, as you look at the window, you can see it’s really late at night.

You sit up and try to make sense of what happened while rubbing your eyes. The last thing you remember is Bucky’s bright smile, and then nothing.

You look down at your arm and see an IV, which you take out while frowning. How long have you been sleeping?

You carefully get off the bed and make your way outside to your rose garden, just to be sure everything’s okay. It’s not like anyone’s gonna stop you anyway.

When you get close, the moonlight shines on the hedges and you gasp at what you see. Your beautiful roses withering away, the gazebo made of vines dying too.

But the most confusing thing is the sobs coming from the bench, although no one’s sitting on it.

You get closer and see Bucky sitting in front of the bench while hugging his knees and crying softly. You frown and get a little closer before stopping, not wanting to startle him.

“Bucky…” You say quietly and his head snaps up, his eyes instantly meeting yours.

For a moment it feels like he’s trying to decide if you’re real, he reaches out and you extend your hand to take his. That seems to convince him and he gasps.

“Doll…” His voice is barely above a whisper, almost as if he thinks if he makes too much noise you’ll disappear.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him while getting a little closer to him, concern clear in your every feature.

It’s only when you get closer that you see his face full of cuts and you frown. Those are not just any scratches, it’s clear to you that they were made by thorns. “D-did… Did I do this to you?”

You’re kneeling in front of him now, one hand still in his one the other comes up to trace the cuts in his face softly, but he takes your hand in his and kisses your palm.

“I’m okay…” He reassures you.

Just then he realizes, you’re fussing over him when you’re the one that’s been in a coma for a month. “Are you okay? How long have you been awake?”

“I… I just woke up.” You tell him honestly, then look around at the dying roses and vines before looking back at him. “What happened to me?”

“You got stung by one of your poisonous thorns.” He says quietly, his thumbs rubbing circles on your skin while he refuses to let go of you. “You’ve been unconscious for almost a month.”

“A month?!” You’re shocked at the news, not knowing what to say or do, so you just stay there while letting the information sink in. The silence is broken by Bucky after a minute.

“I’m sorry about your roses… I tried to keep them alive, but…” He looks around with a hopeless expression. “I failed you.”

Your heart breaks a little. Does he really think he failed you?

You take a deep breath, then close your eyes and when you open them again a second later everything’s back to normal. The roses are as beautiful as ever, the gazebo just as majestic. It’s like nothing ever happened.

Bucky looks around in awe when he feels you take his chin and you make him look at you.

“You could never fail me.” You say firmly, wanting him to understand you mean it. You look at the cuts around his face and you can’t help the guilt and pain that you feel deep within you. “I’m sorry…”

“It wasn’t your fault.” It’s like Bucky can read your thoughts, he knows all you can see are your faults, and he wants you to know he doesn’t blame you for anything. “You weren’t even conscious. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I never wanted to be one of the people that hurt you…” Your voice is a whisper as a tear escapes you. “The world hurt you so much already… I never wanted to be part of that. You don’t deserve it.”

Bucky frowns. He feels like he’s heard those words, but where? No, he didn’t hear them. He read them. He read them in your diary, where you wrote about the man you’re in love with. Could it be possible?

Could I be him?

“It’s me…” He says lower than a whisper, his eyes locked on yours, and it’s your time to be confused now.

“What?” You ask him with a frown while wiping your cheeks.

“It’s me you’re in love with.” His voice is a little louder, but firm. He’s not asking you, he’s making a statement.

Your eyes widen in surprise, you almost take your hands away from his but his hold prevents you from doing that.

“I-I… What?” Is all you can bring yourself to say, confused as to why he’s so sure of it. Are you really that transparent?

“I read your diary…” Bucky says, guilt written all over his face, but at least he’s owning up to it. “You wrote about the man you love… and you wrote the same thing you just told me. It’s me, isn’t it? You love me back?” His voice is more hopeful now, his confident demeanor weavering.

“You… You read my diary?” You say, your mind still playing catch up.

It’s only a moment later that you register the ‘love me back’ and you don’t give him a chance to apologize or justify himself before you’re speaking again. “You love me?!”

Bucky hesitates a moment but nods firmly. “I love you, doll. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.”

You feel like someone punched you and all the air has left your body. You have no idea what to say, so you don’t say anything.

Instead you lean in and kiss him.

Bucky wastes no time kissing you back, but a thought pops into his mind and he reluctantly pulls back. “What about your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” You frown again, having no idea what he’s talking about. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You don’t?” Bucky feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders and he pulls you to straddle him. “What about the guy you went on a few dates with?”

You narrow your eyes at him but decide to table the conversation about how he knows that for another time, so you smile at him and decide to just be honest with him.

“Do you honestly think that anyone could ever measure up to you? Because if you do, you’re an idiot.” Bucky grins and kisses you again.

Maybe he is an idiot. But when he’s the idiot you’re in love with, how much of an idiot can he really be?

It looks like he can be him after all.

988 notes · View notes

heartpascal · 11 months

Text

is it freedom?

▹— spiderverse (future) found family x platonic!reader

▹— summary: after losing everything, you struggle to accept the one thing you needed all along.

▹— a/n: ok i have been enabled by exactly two (2!) people. (thank you both) SO dare i start a spiderverse series??? IF YALL WANT MORE OF THIS… I WILL DO IT. this is really just a set up thing idk but i feel like arachnid has potential for further parts and ACTUAL found family!! also haven’t tagged people on my general taglist bc idk if you guys want to be tagged in ALL works or just all pedro works :(

▹— warnings: slight across the spiderverse spoilers, not really found family yet, injuries, blood, treating own injuries, stitches, fighting (canon-typical violence yall), dead parents (mentioned a LOT), a whole lot of angst (it’s a spider-person so what do we expect), reader has a whole lot of bad thoughts, loneliness, isolation

masterlist PART TWO

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Had you known what this, this thing, would lead to, you would have never started it. Not that you had done so purposely, at least to begin with, more so happening as an event of pure chance. You were in the right place at the right time, and since then, you had been addicted.

But if you could go back, look at yourself just a year younger than you are now, tell that kid what would come if you went through with saving a life for the first time, you wondered. It was a question that scratched deep in your brain, sending you off balance the more you thought about it; would you have still done it? Would you have saved that person’s life, knowing it would lead to your own falling apart?

You would like to think yes. In fact, you know that back then, when your eyes were bright at the prospect of helping people, when you still marvelled at the world like it was good, you would have been certain that it would be worth it. Why should that person die, just to save you? It’s a harrowing realisation. A conclusion that makes your fingers tremble, your voice shake. Now, you’re not sure you would do it. You don’t think you could bear to face that decision knowing what you know of the world around you now.

It’s something cruel, really, that the spider that bit you gave you these powers, and nothing to go back and fix your mistakes. Your perceived victories. Your losses.

But the worst has already happened, and the only one left to die is you, so you carry on. You don the suit every day, you sew up your own injuries on the top floor of the abandoned offices that you’ve claimed as your own. Each day, you wake when you choose, you sleep when you want to, and you work yourself down to your very bones with nobody to object.

The hollow feeling in your gut is a pain you have no choice to ignore, to smother with assurances that this is freedom. What else could it be? You do whatever you so please, you spend your time swinging through the streets of New York rather than doing schoolwork at home, you eat all the junk you could ever have wanted.

It’s freedom. It has to be.

You tell yourself that you don’t miss the home part of having to do schoolwork, promise your heart that you don’t miss home-cooked meals as opposed to greasy food that leaves you unsatisfied. You swear that you like having nobody to tell you what to do. There’s no other choice, after all.

And each day, when you spend a little bit longer out on the streets, getting yourself into needless fights that the police could certainly handle, you tell yourself it’s because you’re protecting the city. You convince yourself that it’s not because of having an unending rage to satiate, or a permanent feeling of breathlessness when you leave police to handle anything, as if you could relive the moment your father, the captain, was left to handle something he couldn’t.

So, you’re almost relieved by the appearance of something… strange. Something dangerous. This is what you live for — this is your job.

You crouch against the wall, fingers splayed and suit itching where you had crudely sewn it back together across your ribs at an almost too-close call. You hold your breath, you watch. The lenses over your eyes shield your sensitive sight from the harshest colours of this new opponent, who looks almost… unreal. Too different to be a part of reality. He yells out, seemingly glitching? A distorted scream of what is apparently pain, accompanied by flashes of colour that are unfamiliar to you.

“Well, that doesn’t look good.” You comment, eyebrows raised beneath your mask, and the strange looking guy snaps his head towards you, long hair slapping across the goggles over his eyes. He bares his teeth at you, something almost resembling a grin marring his face.

“Spider-man!” He yells triumphantly, cackling as he wipes the hair away from his face, tendrils unfurling from behind his back and lifting him into the air.

“Not quite!” You call back, dodging below the metallic arm that shoots towards where your head was, crumbling through the wall. You try to think back to the jokes you used to tell to rile up whoever you were facing, but find your mind is blank. Instead, all you can think of is questions. “Where the hell did you come from, anyway?”

The man follows you as you spring from wall to wall, heading towards the center of the building where it tunnels up for about forty floors, balconies overlooking the fountain below. “A new spider, eh? Well I’ll take you down just as easily as I have the other!” He tells you, though you’re immediately suspicious of his statement. You’re the only Spider-related hero around, and even if you weren’t, you doubt this guy could squash a worm, let alone you.

“Sure thing, man.” You say, sighing, already exhausted by the repetitiveness that comes with every fight. Your opponents always say they’ll beat you, kill you, squish you, take you down, and yet you always get back up at the end of the fight, and they always remain defeated. When you started doing this, you never would have thought you’d get so tired from winning all the time.

And yet here you are, slipping further and further up the building with the octopus-looking guy chasing after you, metal arms crumbling walls and bannisters on his way up. He falters once more, another one of those glitch-like movements sending him down a few floors, but he’s quick to recover. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.

You crouch down on one balcony, somewhere around the thirty mark floor-wise, peering down at the guy as he shakes lingering pain from his body. He charges upwards, aiming to reach you quickly with an almost predatory smirk on his face. Before he can even get close to you, however, you’re back on the move, setting a trap for him that he doesn’t even seem to notice.

It’s only when a group of late workers emerge on what you’re pretty sure is the twenty-first floor that you become more anxious about this fight. You don’t like when civilians are involved.

There’s about a dozen of them crowding the balcony, looking up to where you’re facing off with octopus-man above, some having begun to descend the stairs to the next floor before catching on to your presence. You try not to draw attention to them, but their pointing and whispering sets the Spidey-sense off, ringing loudly between your ears, almost deafening in its intensity. Maybe you underestimated this guy. The flash of a camera sends the last hope of him not noticing down the drain, and he grins at you as he switches targets, climbing down towards them with some semblance of caution.

You’re much faster than he is, dropping down and using a web to catch yourself rather than having to climb. It’s hard to stop yourself from yelling at them, cursing them out for being so damn foolish — who in their right mind would stick around a very dangerous fight to take pictures?

Instead, you choose to yell, “Get out! Go, go, go.” And usher them down the stairs, but it’s not difficult to realise that this guy is going to get to them before they manage to descend to the bottom. You shouldn’t be surprised, really. Nothing is ever as simple as it could be, not for you.

The split second decision to drop down and form a net-like web low enough to catch the workers worked out for you in the end, as you swung back up and pushed the workers off of the balcony and stairway just as the octopus man was reaching them. He cursed at you, refocusing his efforts on you as you vaguely noted the workers clambering down after their screaming had stopped. Honestly — did people really have so little faith in you? Had you ever sent anybody to their death before?

“You are just as pesky of an insect as Spider-man!” He growled out, teeth gritted, and came after you with renewed force. He kind of reminded you of that doctor you faced not long after getting your powers, but this guy looked completely different. The doctor you faced — aptly named Doc Ock — had turned himself into some form of a mutant, he had reinforced tentacles which sprouted from his back. Was this guy some kind of copy cat? Maybe he was just delusional.

“I don’t know who Spider-man is, man!” You shout to him as you ascend the building again, trying to figure out the best way to take this guy down. His tentacles seem electronic, so surely you could disable whatever machinery resides on his back?

“That’d be me.” A voice came from above you, two floors ahead of your position. Your head snapped towards it, seeing a man in a blue and red suit, framed by a burst of orange behind him. He didn’t linger up there long, instead moving to leap down to the guy who had turned his attention to the new guy. The closer you looked at this new guy, the more similarities you saw to yourself — his webs looked remarkably similar to your own, the pattern that went across his suit matched your own, even the wide white lenses that shielded your eyes on your mask. Who the hell was this guy?

The octopus man grinned widely, shaking greasy hair from his face. “Ah, finally! The real Spider-man. Got yourself a new protégé, I see.” He drawled, dodging this new guy’s hit straight off of the bat. You tried not to get annoyed at being referred to as a protégé, considering as far as you were aware, you were the only Spider-person around. Where was this guy when you were holding a bridge full of civilians together? Where was he when you took down villain after villain, never once failing to get the guy? No — you were the real Spider-man, if anyone.

“I don’t know who you are, man, but I’m handling this just fine.” You call to the guy, swinging down to rejoin the fight, webbing the villain’s metal tentacles to the wall behind him, before dropping down to kick him towards the wall.

“Oh, so you know how to send this guy back to his own dimension?” Spider-man asks you, eyebrows raised beneath his mask, and as if on cue, the guy glitches once more, ripping his arms away from the wall and just about catching himself on a balcony below before he could fall into your net.

You gape at the new guy, glancing back up to where the burst of orange remains opened, and is that a portal? Is this Spider-man from another dimension? Is that why you’ve never heard of him before? God, if your mother was alive, she’d kill to find out about this. Inter-dimensional travel was something she had spent her life researching. If you didn’t remain so bitter toward her even after her death, you might’ve been sad she wasn’t alive to see this.

But you were bitter, and it made the experience all the worse.

Because you’re pretty sure that that bitterness takes the place of grief within you. It’s hard to understand why you crave to feel that pain, that grief, as opposed to the aching resentment that floods you with the thought of her. It’s such a sharp contrast to thinking of your father, your kind father, the man who threw himself into a battle he couldn’t have hoped to survive, just on the off chance he could save somebody. You hope you take after him.

“Wait— you’re from another dimension?” You question anyway, eyes flickering between the battle and the looming portal above. In fact, you’re so distracted by finding out about that tidbit of information that you miss octopus man aim a tentacle for you, and it snatches you around the ankle. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me—!”

The man waves you around like some kind of rag doll, and you try not to be too bitter about being caught off guard. You should probably learn that getting caught up in your little pity party always ends up badly, always distracts you from that renowned Spidey-sense. You formulate a plan in your mind when the drip of blood around your ankle draws your attention back to the battle at hand.

You web the wall opposite and hold on tight, pausing the movements and letting the dizziness that had come over you fade away. The man growls out in annoyance, and gets closer to cut the webs with another tentacle, which is exactly what you planned for. The tension from the webs launches you towards him when you let go, and in his surprise, the metal tentacle releases you. You wrap around him, and start webbing up the machinery embedded in his back as Spider-man distracts most of the tentacles, keeping them from pulling you off.

His tentacles start faltering, clearly not obeying his movements, and you wrap them up where they emerge from his back, continuing along until the movement is so limited that he has to use them all to clutch onto the nearest balcony.

You crawl up the tentacles in the very same spidery manner that you’re known for, and crouch, watching the octopus man struggle as Spider-man observes from the balcony opposite. “You wanna finish this one off, Spider-man?” You ask, unable to hide any bitterness from your tone at his mostly unhelpful actions throughout the battle.

“Hey, not bad!” He praises, and it annoys you. You’re good at what you do — for the most part. You manage without help constantly, and that’s the way you prefer it. “You’d make a good addition to the Spider Society!”

Now, you don’t know what the Spider Society is. But honestly? You don’t care. You don’t need help, and you prefer working alone, and you certainly don’t like feeling patronised.

“Whatever, man. Just send him back to whatever dimension he came from.” You tell the guy, and drop down as you hear sirens outside, landing on your injured ankle and just about stopping yourself from cursing. Through all the adrenaline and fighting, you’d forgotten about the way the metal had ripped into your skin, drawn blood. It’s just be another place you’d have to sew up your suit with itchy, uneven stitching. “Officers,” You greet as they open the doors, guns drawn, radios murmuring. “All taken care of. Civilians okay?”

“Shaken up, but fine.” The leading police officer says, immediately relaxing and holstering his weapon. You wish it reassured you that the police trusted you now, but it didn’t. Nonetheless, the other officers follow suit. “Thank you, Arachnid.”

The name your world has bestowed upon you has yet to grow on you, but you nod your head regardless, and salute them as you make your way out, swinging across the city, trying to put the existence of the multiverse and inter-dimensional travel out of your mind. Surprisingly, it’s pretty easy when you have a busted ankle to fix up.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You’re halfway through stitching up your suit, having already sewn your skin back together with as much skill as you possessed in the matter — which was, not much. But the bleeding has stopped, and your stupidly slow healing will take care of it within a few days. You know that the itchy stitches on your suit will just irritate the injury, and though you wouldn’t lose anything if your identity was revealed, it doesn’t feel right to go out into the city with any part of you on show.

No, you wear the suit for a reason. You keep every part of yourself covered because nobody can know it’s you underneath the suit. Not because you had anything to lose, no, you had already lost everything. It was because then you could never make a mistake, you would have to be absolutely perfect, flawless, to make up for the fact that it was you underneath the layer.

So, you settle with a sewn suit that will itch and make the stitches on your ankle sting.

However, when there’s a burst of orange across the room, you have no choice but to forgo the suit, to simply drop the needle and thread and hover your fingers over your web shooters. You wait, nervously, for some other villain to appear. You’re not sure if Spider-man appearing would be better or worse.

But when a foot steps through the portal, it’s nobody familiar. In fact, it’s a suit you have never seen before, made up of dark blues and bright reds, sharp edges and long claws. It’s… unnerving, and considering the silence coming from the person wearing it, you’re not entirely certain of what they’re here for.

A moment later and another person steps through, a woman, with bright yellow lenses across her eyes that filter her irises into an amber. She steps forward, standing beside the person who had stepped through first, and if she hadn’t showed up, you would’ve been tempted to attack. With that being said, you remain on edge, but there’s something… comforting about her presence. Like her presence softens the man’s jagged edges.

She says your name, and then adds, “Arachnid.”

You furrow your brows and curse as you glance back at the suit so crudely laid out on the floor. Still, it doesn’t explain how she knows your name. Was it an inter-dimensional thing?

“Spider-man told us about your work in capturing Doc Ock earlier.” She tells you, as if that explains their presence. You did what you were supposed to do, which was take out the bad guys. “We’re here to offer you a place in the Spider Society.”

You can’t help but wonder if this is some kind of good cop, bad cop thing. She presents an offer which doesn’t sound too bad, and then her sharp-edged companion presents all the drawbacks and the catches. They don’t seem like the type to take no for an answer, either way. You still don’t even know what this Spider Society was! Was it some kind of multi-dimensional cult?

“I already told Spider-man that I wasn’t interested in joining whatever cult you’ve got going on.” You practically hiss, though you didn’t exactly tell him in such blatant words. You were more dismissive earlier, so you’d have to be clear now.

“It’s not a cult,” The man speaks, voice harsh and sharp much like the blades that branch from his forearms. “We work to protect the multiverse from anomalies that threaten to destroy it.”

The woman glances at him in a way that you translate as being vaguely annoyed, like he wasn’t approaching you in the way she had wanted him to. “He means to say that it’s a big job, and we need all the help we can get.” She says, softer, but only in comparison to the man’s harshness. “Listen, kid, you’re good at what you do. We need that kind of talent.”

“You’ll have to find it somewhere else.” You say firmly, because why would you want to leave your universe? This was a lot to think about when you had only learned of the multiverse existing mere hours ago. Regardless, you weren’t about to abandon your city just to go across the multiverse to help other heroes who couldn’t keep a leash on their own villains.

The two of them shared a look, a mere glance, before the woman heaved a sigh. “Look,” She sighed, heavily, like whatever she was about to say was something she didn’t want to be voicing. “Before you make your choice, you should know, your Green Goblin is currently terrorising another universe.”

You couldn’t work out if this was some kind of recruitment tactic, or something. That just wasn’t possible. You had put Gwen Stacy in the highest security prison after all antidotes to her goblin-tech failed. She was stuck in there — permanently. There was no way she had gotten out, let alone gotten out to another universe.

…Right?

It’s hard not to think of the memories at the mention of her—Green Goblin, not Gwen Stacy. Never Gwen Stacy. You wonder if this is where your fear comes from, the terrifying fact that you are remembered only for your mistakes. Because before she was the Green Goblin, she was Gwen. She was everything to you. She was the sun you orbited, the stars that charted your path. And it hurts, it hurts that you can only remember the blood and the dust and the destruction when you think of her.

People aren’t born as monsters, are they?

Like the spider that bit you, that invertebrate that so many fear, it was born the way it was. It was born with those fang-lined maws, with those eight legs and dozens of eyes. It was made into the monster it became, artificially crafted to deliver a venom that changed you forever. But it wasn’t born that way.

Surely, Gwen wasn’t either. She was kind. You remember that about her. You can remember her soft hands that used to hold your own, the loud laughter that always ended in a snort when she laughed at her own jokes, the gentle eyes that stared into your very soul. But those eyes are the very same ones that let her see through your mask, let her see exactly where to hit you to make it hurt. Was that what she was born as? Or is that what she was made into? A killer. A monster.

“Show me.” You say, because what else could you possibly respond? If what they’re saying is true, if the Green Goblin is loose once more, then people will die.

You can’t let her get fresh blood on her hands. Not when somewhere, deep inside your chest, so far down it’s almost unreachable, you have hope for her. You have an innate desire to look for the best in her, even when the Gwen you knew was the first life that the Green Goblin took.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

If there’s one thing you’ve taken from being Arachnid, it’s to expect the unexpected. And you go through the orange portal after Jessica Drew and Miguel O’Hara with that exact mindset about you, staring at where an orange watch-like device is wrapped around your wrist.

It’s in your nature to be suspicious, and these people weren’t an exception to that.

In fact, their presence only heightened that behaviour. After all, what were you to expect from two Spider people, who supposedly came to you for your help?

You weren’t blind, you saw the aged lines of their faces the moment you got close enough to see them clearly, away from the dim lighting of the building. They were adults, adults who had clearly been doing this type of thing a lot longer than you had. You, who was barely bordering on adult, who had fought enough battles already to last a lifetime — so why would they need you?

It didn’t feel right.

And when this Miguel person summoned Lyla the moment you walked through the portal, it felt all the more wrong. She was a hologram of some kind, much higher tech than the kind of thing you saw on your earth. But then again, you had never really been in high tech labs back in your earth. Still, it unsettled you. “Lyla, get me the location of Green Goblin, Earth 5011.” He commanded, and they argued in hushed voices for a moment, before a wider hologram appeared, stamped at Earth 3899.

“How did she get to another universe?” You ask, then, because it doesn’t make sense, and you’re shaking underneath the thin material of your suit. You’re hyper aware of each drag of stitching against the wound on your leg, each patch of fabric you had sewn on in hopes of the suit lasting you just a little longer, because you didn’t have the resource to produce a new one.

“It’s an anomaly.” Jessica Drew tells you, her tone softer than you’d heard it, as if she was attempting to reassure you in some way.

It didn’t help. But how could it? The last time you had faced Gwen Stacy—Green Goblin— you had lost so much. It had been the beginning of the end of everything good in your life. The explosion she had caused at your mother’s laboratory was the very same one that killed her, the very same explosion that sent you and your dad miles apart all while living in the same home. And still, you found a way to hope that there was something to salvage within Gwen.

But not only had you lost your mother, and not long after — your father, you had also lost your closest friend. The one person you had confided in, who knew you from your surface to the deepest level, and she had used that against you the moment the Goblin had taken over.

It had taken everything in you to beat her, back then.

And that was on home turf! How did these people expect you to do that a second time, in a completely unfamiliar place?

“Specifics aren’t important right now. Jessica, you take Arachnid. Lyla, send another one of the teams.” Miguel instructed, dismissing your questions right off the bat. It was frustrating. They were leaving you completely in the dark, and sending you to fight the worst enemy you had ever faced, and they were sending you alongside others like you from different universes. It was like asking you to bare your soul in front of them, to reveal your secrets, your deepest regrets, everything that you wanted to stay buried.

You knew Green Goblin. You knew that’s exactly what she would do. She would undermine you, she would lay your life out in front of you like tiles on a scrabble board. In the end, none of it amounted to much.

Jessica Drew made her way out, glancing at you and nodding for you to follow along. Your moment of hesitation had drawn Miguel’s attention, and he called out to you after a moment of hesitation. “We’ve all faced one like it, kid. It’s easier with others.” He told you, though he held a pained expression on his face all the while. Instead of admitting to the way he had hit the nail right on the head, you simply nodded and followed after Spider-woman.

It was a whirlwind from there.

Meeting up with others. Travelling the length of the so-called Lobby to wherever it was that Jessica was taking you. When you finally arrived, she offered an empty glass box with a mannequin inside, bare. She gestured towards it like it should’ve been self explanatory, but soon realised she’d have to spell it out for you.

You shouldn’t have been so upset by the offer of a new suit.

But you were.

This suit was your life. You had nothing outside of it, not anymore. You couldn’t just throw it away, as if it meant nothing, as if every rip and patch and wonky stitch didn’t mean anything. These were proof that what you were doing was real, that it was worth something. Each stitch proved you had value. You weren’t about to throw all of that away, especially for whatever overly technical suit these people would provide.

You had everything you needed.

And so Jessica led you to the next destination: Earth 3899.

The moment you stepped through the portal, it was like you were hit with a wave of familiarity. And not in a positive, slightly nostalgic way, no— this was chaos. This was the state your world had been in when Green Goblin ran riot, unchecked. She had torn apart buildings, blown up parks, she had set New York City aflame. And she was doing exactly the same here.

It was more contained here than it had been on your earth, and you had to assume that was thanks to the Spider-man already on site, coordinating police, ambulance and fire responses to douse the fires as quickly as she set them. If only the police in your city had trusted you so much, back then.

“Where is she?” You ask, the moment you get close enough to speak to the resident Spider-man of the universe. He looks at you as if you’re familiar, but doesn’t comment, instead just pointing a finger toward a skyscraper just a short way ahead. You’re gone the moment he tells you where to go.

She had the uncanny ability to stay quiet. It had freaked you own back on your own earth, but it was even more terrifying here, where things were ever so slightly different.

“Arachnid.” Gwen’s voice called, and for a moment, you could forget. You could forget every horrible thing the Goblin had done, and you could remember your friend, your Gwen, who had called out to Arachnid more than once without knowing it was you behind the mask. Whether it was for a story or to provide information on your most recent opponent, the voice calling your alias was familiar. But then there was that crackle of laughter, an unnatural gurgle in the way it left her throat, and you turned to see the green-tinged pallor of her skin. “I was so hoping you’d show up.”

You didn’t know how much her appearance would effect you, until you were stuck to the side of the building, staring at what had once been your best friend. You’re so choked up that you can’t even formulate a response, because you want that to be Gwen so badly, but you know it isn’t. The more you look at her, the more Goblin you see, the more you know that the Gwen you love is never coming back.

“Nothing to say?” She asks, and then says your real name, the name she used to say down the crackle of a phone line, or across the school hallway, and she smiles. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“You should’ve stayed in prison, Gwen.” You say, your voice unsteady as you say her name aloud for the first time in what must be forever. She seems to relish in the tremble of your voice, and you have to curse yourself for being so stupid, for already showing the vulnerability she was so easily able to pick out.

The Green Goblin tutted at you, stood atop her glider, but the smile you saw didn’t belong to Gwen. “You’re pathetically predictable, you know. You’re like a moth to the flame.” She tells you, and you fear that she’s right, that you’re the same person you were back when you fought her, back when she almost won. She sighs, like something heavy is weighing upon her, but it turns wistful in the blink of an eye. “I’m just glad your dad isn’t here to see this. He’d be so disappointed.”

“Arachnid, focus.” Jessica’s voice interrupts, before you can spiral down that rabbit hole. How did Gwen even know about your father? She was in prison long before he died. It didn’t make sense.

“Maybe,” You say, that familiar tremble around your words. “He did always hope for the best for you.”

She bares her teeth at your words, the only visible reaction before her mask is slipping over the bottom of her face, stretching out up to pointed ears, all metallic and tinted a murky green. Then, she’s attacking.

It’s muscle memory, mostly, you think.

If you don’t think too hard about it, it could be like playing a game with a longtime friend from your childhood. You know the moves to make, you know how she’ll respond. It’s a constant push and pull, a balance which leaves only destruction behind, the path of the Green Goblin’s wrath tangible in each battle scene the two of you leave behind. You can’t beat her like this.

It’s her glitching that gives you a slight upper hand — and you send her careening off of her glider to the ground below.

Your heart squeezes suddenly in your chest as you watch her fall, her eyes wide in what could almost be perceived as fear. If you didn’t intervene, would she die? Would you have put an end to her story, once and for all, when you secretly hope there’s a cure out there for her? You can’t bear the thought of finding out, of watching her die, and so you foolishly dive after her.

A web to her midsection allows you to grip her before she hits the ground, and you set her down with a far more gentle hand than you would ever admit.

She says your name, then, a whispered version of it that sounds like Gwen. You think you can see her in those wide blue eyes, in that stare, and you approach with some caution. “Gwen,” You say, more of a question, “You with me?”

“I’m with you,” She answers, as you reach her side, as you resist the urge to pull off your mask. You’re so preoccupied staring at her expression that you don’t see the blade until it’s too late, your Spidey-sense failing you as you wallowed in your search for someone who was gone. “You sweet, predictable bug.” She spits then, twisting the blade she had sunk deep into your side, and you writhe, trying to move away from her.

“Arachnid!” Jessica Drew calls out, drawing the Green Goblin’s attention, allowing you to pull away from her slackened grasp. You leave the blade where it is, knowing your only slightly enhanced healing wouldn’t make up for the onslaught of blood that would pour from the wound. “I think that’s enough, Green Goblin.” Jessica says, riding a motorbike that you swore she didn’t have earlier. Nonetheless, she uses it to put even more space between you and your villain.

“You need a hand, kid?” A new voice asks, and a gloved hand reaches out for you where you had knelt against the tarmac. You look up, seeing a new Spider-man, but this one has his mask up, showing off his aged face and the bags underneath his eyes. You wave him off, staggering up to your feet, and clench your jaw as you stare at Green Goblin, watch as she pulls bombs from her waistband, barely the size of a chocolate bar, but capable of causing irreparable damage. “Get back to HQ, Arachnid, we can handle this.” Spider-man tells you, in what you suspect to be a fatherly voice, but you ignore him.

Time flies, slips out of your grasp, and you don’t know how long you and the others spend fighting Green Goblin, but she proves to be just as difficult of a foe for them to face as she was for you. Each time the three of you manage to get the drop on her, she slips away before she could be caught. It’s frustrating, and you can even see the way irritation thickens in the air, tangible.

Spider-man, or Peter, as Jessica had called him, is with you, focusing on trying to take Green Goblin down, whilst Jessica Drew is focused on damage control, blowing up Gwen’s bombs before they could hit their intended targets. You’re pretty sure the resident Spider-man is around here, too, pulling any lingering citizens out of harms way before Green Goblin could end them. You’d admit, it works better than you had done alone back on your own earth.

But it doesn’t work well enough, and more than one building is damaged almost beyond repair, and in the dust and rubble, Peter was distracted by the few citizens poking their heads out of the gaping hole in the side of their apartments. He didn’t see Green Goblin coming until it was too late, until she had thrown two of her bombs, one towards him, and one towards the already wrecked building.

Your throat dries up as you try to figure out what to do, who to go for, but in the end, you don’t have to choose.

Beams of glowing orange webs shoot into the bombs where they arc towards their victims, blowing them up and leaving both Peter and the civilians in the apartments without a scratch on any of them. Well, nothing that wasn’t already there before. You see him then, running alongside Jessica Drew, none other than Miguel O’Hara — who clearly didn’t think that the three of you were capable of handling Green Goblin.

“We’ve gotta end this.” Peter tells the three of you, glaring over at Green Goblin after coming so close to one of her bombs.

“You distract, I’ll go in.” You say, the only plan that makes sense. The only plan that’ll work. You wouldn’t be much use as a distraction, not with the blood still pooling around the blade hanging from your side, but you could beat her. You knew you could.

Peter nodded, and he, Jessica and Miguel went in one after another, landing hits on Green Goblin before she could even think to withdraw another bomb, or land a hit of her own, whilst you made your way behind her, swinging as high as you dared to go in your state. She was getting angry, you could tell, a distinct flush rushing up the back of her neck, a tell that Green Goblin shared with Gwen.

It was only when she was starting to turn the tide that you jumped down from your spot against the side of a building, looking for your opening.

She sent Jessica Drew tumbling off of her motorbike, which was your chance.

Green Goblin heard you only a moment before you were on her, not giving her a chance to make a countermove. Instead, you were curling your arms around her, as tight as you could, holding her hands away from her waistband. You gripped the blade in your side and yanked it out, holding it to her chest, breathing heavily through the pain as you bared your teeth at her, her face beside your own.

“Don’t make me kill you.” You say, and try not to hear the pleading in your own voice, the distinctive tone of a beg. You may have the upper hand on her, but as always, she had the power. “Don’t.” You repeat, because you can feel it in your bones that you would do it. If it was the choice between her or the hundreds that she would kill on this world, it would be those hundreds. There was no doubt about it, no questions to be asked.

You may have resented your mother, but she wasn’t the only one who died because of the Green Goblin. You wouldn’t let that happen again.

Perhaps she heard the plea in your voice, the giveaway that you weren’t bluffing, because she went still in your arms, still enough for the other Spiders to approach with some caution, eyes on her hands where you held them away from any weapons, using your forearm connected to the hand holding the blade to her chest to keep her left hand from grasping anything.

“I won’t be asking again.” You tell her, which is as much of a threat as you can muster. Or, more so, a promise.

As Miguel pushed you back with a firm hand, throwing a machine at Gwen’s feet, you think she understands. If the two of you are ever in that position again, there will be no hesitation about it. You will kill her.

“Good work, kid.” Peter says as Miguel and Jessica get to work with getting your Green Goblin through a portal to the HQ. He glanced down at where your hand is now pressing into your side, blood pouring steadily. In your other hand, you still hold the blade that had pierced your own skin, that would have killed Gwen Stacy had she not surrendered. He winces as if it’s him who got hurt, and guides you through the portal after the others. “C’mon, we’ll get you checked out. You not got enhanced healing?” He asks, though you suspect he doesn’t expect you to answer, and you’re glad.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“I can do this myself, you know.” You sigh, wincing as a Spider-man — who apparently is also a doctor and works in the Spider Society’s infirmary — stitches up the wound on your midsection. It’s uncomfortable, though less painful that when you do it yourself. Still, it’s uncomfortable to accept help from these strangers.

“Ooh, shouldn’t say that to him.” Peter B. Parker laughs, one of the many Peter Parkers of the Society, but the same one who had fought Green Goblin with you. “He’ll lecture you on proper healthcare for days if you give him the opportunity!”

The Spider-doctor glares at Peter, or you assume he does, from the slight squint of the lenses of his mask. He kisses his teeth under the mask, tutting, muttering about “Spiders and their complete disregard for their health. Lucky you haven’t died ten times over from infections.” But he doesn’t say anything that requires a response from you, and he soon finished up the stitches. He goes to offer to fix up the injury on your ankle, but you’re up on your feet before he can even get the words out.

“Now, I gotta get back home to the wife, but Miguel wants to see you. He’ll take you home,” Peter tells you as he walks out of the infirmary by your side, but he stops you in the hallway with a hand on your shoulder, surprisingly gentle. “If that’s what you want.”

Your eyebrows furrowed before you could stop them, and the confusion over his words must’ve been written all over your face.

“Why wouldn’t I want that?” You ask, defensively.

Peter opens his mouth, but nothing escapes. Instead, it’s his expression that tells you everything he’s thinking. The crease between his brows screams pitying, or sympathetic. He’s talking about the way you live back on your earth, about the life you lead, Arachnid by day, and by night. With no room for you, no room for your secret identity. He’s thinking of the way you’ll be returning to a world with nobody awaiting you, with not a soul to look out for you, to stitch you up after a battle. Nobody but yourself, anyway.

You pull away from him, brows furrowing further, into an almost angered expression, and you don’t watch the way his hand falls away from your shoulder back to his side. He sighs when you turn away, scoffing as you make your way through the hallways of the Lobby towards where you think Miguel will be.

It’s overwhelming, all of these people. They all believe that they know you, that they know your circumstances, your story, but the truth is that they don’t. Nobody does, and that’s the way you prefer it. You don’t need a Society of Spiders surrounding you, breathing down your neck, telling you they’re sorry, or not trusting you to handle yourself in your own fights, because you can handle yourself. You’ve spent the last year of your life trying to prove that, trying to prove that you can do good things, that you’re worthy of the title Arachnid. You certainly shouldn’t need to prove that to a whole Society of people like you, most of which had been doing the job a lot longer.

You’re capable and you’re content.

You don’t need a life as your secret identity to be content, in fact, it’s better without one. You don’t have to tell so many lies, don’t have to worry about hurting the people you love, because there are none of them left. There’s nobody to hurt, and there’s nobody to lie to. Why would you want to change that?

The hallway ahead looks familiar, and you follow it until you enter a room where Miguel stands, looking at orange tinted screens on a platform halfway up the room. You enter with the absolute certainty that you want to return to your own earth, and you’re not going to let anybody stop you.

“I’m ready.” You tell him, expectantly.

He scoffs, saying nothing, still staring at the screens in front of him. For whatever reason, the reaction makes you angry — inexplicably so. You’re slinging up to the platform before you can have a second thought about it, and you’re pushing his shoulder so he’ll face you, so he’ll acknowledge you.

He stares at you, unimpressed.

“Send me back to my earth.” You press, brows furrowed beneath your mask, but you’re sure he can see the anger in the way your shoulders tense up.

“Sure,” Miguel said blankly, staring at you as if you’d suddenly change your mind or something. “But you know, there’s a lot more like her.” He added on when you said nothing, waiting for him to send you back to your world so you could give him back the stupid watch still wrapped around your wrist.

You stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language. “There are no more like her.” You respond, feeling that hot press on your chest. You don’t want to talk about Gwen Stacy anymore than you’re sure he’d like to talk about whatever he had gone through in his life. Hell, you don’t even want to think about her, but you know that nobody else you would ever have to face would hurt you in the way that she did. In the way that having to see her as an enemy, rather than your friend, had hurt. So, yeah, there was nobody like her, not for you.

Miguel seems ready to let you go for a moment, but then he’s shaking his head at you. “You have a place here. You can be with people like you. You don’t have to do this alone, anymore.” He says, and you think that is ironic, because you don’t see anybody else in here. To you, it seems like he is doing exactly that; doing the job alone. You can practically see the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“I prefer being alone.” You tell him, and it has to be true. It has to be.

His jaw sets, acceptance, you think, and he nods. He glances past you, to where a portal was open on the floor below. Considering that you hadn’t seen him set up the portal, you’d wager that his AI Lyla must’ve listened in and done it for him. You pull the watch off of your wrist, relishing in the way your very atoms seem to sag with the weight of being in another dimension.

“Thanks.” You say, and drop down, landing on your sore ankle but not murmuring a word about the pain. You walk back to your world with your head held high, despite your tattered suit and multitude of wounds that would take days to stop hurting.

Miguel stares after you as the portal closes, eyebrows furrowed. He barely acknowledges Jessica Drew’s arrival in the room, already having known she had been lingering in the hallway, listening in. “Well, that went well.” She comments, glancing between where the portal had been and where Miguel stands, brooding. She knows how much pressure he puts on himself, and she knows that he cares about each and every Spider-person in the multiverse. It doesn’t take a Spider-sense to see the way in which you struggle. It’s a familiar struggle, sure, but there were so many Spiders across the multiverse who had a shoulder to lean on in their hardest times. Who did you have? There was no Aunt May for Arachnid, or Gwen Stacy, or Harry Osborne, or, well, anybody.

Jessica thinks that if anybody were to know exactly how that felt, it would be Miguel.

#heartpascal writes #across the spiderverse spoilers #atsv spoilers #spiderman atsv spoilers #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x platonic reader #jessica drew x platonic reader #peter b parker x platonic reader #peter b parker x reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse x platonic reader #spiderverse x you #spiderverse imagines #spiderverse one shot #spiderverse imagine #spiderverse angst #miguel o’hara angst #struggling idk how to tag with a new fandom shhh

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floatyflowers · 3 months

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Dark Platonic Father! Spiderman x reader

Peter Parker never imagined ending up as a single young father.

But it happened, and he doesn't regret it at all, even though it is hard to take care of a child while being a superhero.

Adding to that, he is keeping his identity a secret from you.

Why? because you have phobias from spiders

He always makes sure you get to school on time and helps you with your homework.

Spiderman is incredibly protective of you, always making sure you're safe and sound, even if it means breaking a few bones while saving the world.

Peter is your biggest fan, cheering you on from the sidelines at every performance you do.

And if a parent or a student makes fun of you, he doesn't mind paying them a visit and 'putting them in their places'

And by that, I mean he scares the living hell out of them.

Even if he is always busy, but all his free time is spent with you, because he believes his life should revolve around him.

So imagine his shock when he discovered that you have friends.

He felt betrayed

Yes, he flew to their houses dressed as Spiderman and made them swear to stay away from you or he will eat them alive.

Maybe it's Venom who is starting to effect his behaviour.

#tw: toxic relationships #platonic yandere #yandere marvel #reader insert #yandere spiderman #yandere father #Father spiderman #spiderman x reader #daughter reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #yandere peter parker

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cxlamarisalxmi · 11 months

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Being Miguel’s daughter and hosting Venom

[Platonic One-Shot]

c/w: major spoilers, angst, gender neutral terms and pronouns (they/them), suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide, no gendered terms used to describe reader, canon ignorance and inaccuracies, if you read the drabble you’ll know you originally just hosted Venom but this time I’m writing you as Spider-Venom

—

[Unedited]

The sun kissed the Western horizon as it slowly sunk beneath the surface. The gorgeous colors of the settling dusk bathing your New York in the luminous sheen of the golden glow that settles upon the city like a blanket.

You were just finishing up for the day, swinging from a tall skyscraper to tether a web to the very top of a clock tower. Pulling yourself up all the way to the top to perch on one of the very many gargoyle statues jutting out of the tower’s roof lip.

“Hungry.”

“That’s what the sandwiches are for bud.”

Venom settled inside when you tore the wrapping off the sandwich and took a big bite out of the end. Plenty of meat packed into the sandwich but also enough vegetables to sustain you too. Nutrients were vital in your symbiotic relationship with the alien and regardless of where they came from you both needed hundreds of them to keep yourselves alive and healthy.

“I hate the vegetables.”

“Well I like them. They taste better than people do.”

“You’ve never had another person before! You don’t let me eat people!”

“I’m not a cannibal.”

“Hmph.”

You rolled your eyes at the symbiote’s childish behavior, you’ve grown used to it but that didn’t mean you’d grown to like their attitude.

But you had grown to like them, ever since they had attached themself to you on your fourteenth birthday. The same day you very nearly took your own life.

Your life was far from perfect, as a matter of fact you can’t remember a time in your twenty long years of being alive that you’d actually been happy. Really, well and truly happy.

Your mother died when you were five and your father had abandoned you not too long after. About a year and half to be precise, and in his care and his care alone you’d learned that he was the furthest thing from what a proper father should be.

The first five years in which he parented you alongside your beloved mother he seemed guarded. Closed off, angry at the world and everyone surrounding him. And his own personal turmoil seemed to transcend into raising you— as he didn’t put an ounce of love or affection into bringing you up.

At the time, you hadn’t understood. What did you do wrong? Did you make him angry? Why wouldn’t he love you unconditionally? Your mother did.. was it so hard for him to treat you as his own? As if he loved you?

Apparently it was too hard for him, because he didn’t want to do it alone. And when your mother had died of cancer he had attempted to raise you in her honor but failed miserably and gave up within two years.

You were seven when you experienced your first heartbreak, in the years prior under his ‘care’ you had plenty share of devastation and let-downs from him. But none compared to this, no other feeling you had ever experienced before compared to this.

A searing ache in your chest born of self doubt, lack of self worth and value. Because you had believed it was entirely your fault that he was incapable of loving you fully and to the extent of his heart. And it festered in your years spent under different families, the issues regarding how you viewed yourself only darkening as you were let down over and over again.

Given up on— over and over again. And the ache continued to linger, growing in secret places— dark and hateful in your tired heart.

And slowly but surely it had given up on you too, shatter to pieces and cast to the wind to leave you broken and hurt. Vulnerable and fragile to the cold and bitter winds of this cruel and brutal life.

Eventually your mind followed suit, wishing for anything to escape this pain. Anything to leave it behind.

Your luck had a turn for the worst when you were bitten by a spider at twelve and gifted cursed with abilities and skills inhuman and otherworldly.

Enhanced senses, heightened sensitivities and awareness and phenomenal intelligence and strength.

Superhuman.

And for two years you lived with it, not utilizing the powers for any kind of purpose. The heightened healing property of your curse made it hard to give up on this life as you had so desperately wished to.

You tried and tried again— and each time you failed.

When you were fourteen is when you met Venom, you had tested buildings before but never the Golden Gate Brigde. And as you clambered over the rail to stand at the very edge of the bridge’s structure— it happened.

You remember the feel of their texture sliding across your skin, then the pressure you felt as they sunk beneath your skin to meld with your body—

“It wasn’t that bad. You’re overexaggerating.”

“I thought we agreed you’d stay out of my head.”

“I never agreed to that.”

“Venom,” you scolded lightly. Not reprimanding in a way that spat disappointment over ownership. But in a way that spoke volumes of the relationship you shared with the alien. Equals.

“I hate it when you think about that bastard.”

“I know, I’m sorry.. my thoughts get away from me.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. He made his choice, you are what he made you. And you’re more than worth it. You deserve love just as everybody else.”

They went silent after that and you didn’t bother trying to get them to keep up the conversation. Just smiled softly at their nature— overprotective and fond.

Venom had saved your life when you were at your lowest, the abilities you gained from your spider bite coupled well with their own. And upon latching themself to you they had promised they would make you see the value in life. And you had.. in them.

They were what kept you alive, and you couldn’t be more grateful for them coming to your aid when you needed it the most.

“You’re sweet, you like to act like you’re big and bad but on the inside you’re just a big softie.”

“I regret everything I said.”

“Oh come on, I was thanking you for what you said.”

“Funny how you didn’t actually say the words ‘thank you’ at all.”

You just laughed as they grumbled in your head, but you were swift to straighten and turn serious when your senses tingled. Like a cold rippled shucking down your back to warn you of incoming danger or threats.

Venom growled lowly alongside the tingle and you jumped up, spinning around to face the danger that caused your senses to ripple. And a glowing orange portal suddenly erupted to life just a few feet in front of you. Sliding your mask back on you separated your feet and steadied yourself, prepared and strong in stance.

Your senses tingled again— sharper this time and you stood there on tense silence and a brief moment of absolute stillness. A moment later something was shooting from the portal, something turned out to be someone and you recognized the green suit and grinning goblin mask as Green Goblin tackled you off the building.

You freed yourself from his grasp and shot a web to the corner of the building to your left before pulling yourself free from his grip and onto the side of the skyscraper.

Your jaw ticked as a flicker of annoyance sparked to life in your chest. The very last thing you wanted to deal with after a long day was an anomaly. You were honestly tempted to just call up Peter B. Parker and have him come here and take care of this himself.

Or maybe he could convince the leader he follows to come do it, not that you know his name or anything f about him but from what Peter says apparently he’s pretty damn good at his job.

“Seriously another one? Our dimension can’t be that exciting can it?”

“Right there with ya buddy, why did he have to come here after we already finished up our day too?”

“Honestly, like— a little fucking class wouldn’t hurt.”

You chuckled at their remark before your senses tingling had you swinging away from the spot you occupied previously just as a gas bomb erupted against the brick.

An irritated sigh left your lips behind the fabric of your mask as you perched yourself on a lamp post, the Goblin’s eerie hysterical laughter echoing loud and prominent in the desolate streets surrounding you. Everyone having long since turned in for the night leaving the area free of any civilians which made your job —and in turn Venom’s— easier at least.

The fight that had begun two minutes after Goblin had tried to surprise you with his fucking chemical bombs wasn’t all you had thought it would be. This Goblin was a whole lot weaker than your Goblin, not only that but the guy kept glitching every few minutes.

And you and Venom capitalized on the very golden opportunities that event opened up to you every time it occurred.

And finally taking him down without any damage to the buildings or street was just the icing on the cake, the fact that the whole fight didn’t endanger any innocent people was a plus too.

Things only went to shit when you went back to that portal with Goblin slung over your shoulder and found two different spider variants walking out of it.

“Well what the fuck took them so damn long? Sure, sure no worries we’ll protect our own universe and keep others out too. No fucking problem on our end.”

Again, you found yourself chuckling humorously at Venom’s attitude. Their clear lack of patience and respect for those in charge of keeping the multiverse under control amusing you. Sure, you both liked Peter enough to admire what it was he and the guy he followed did.. along with the other spider variants he works with. But still.. if you’re going to make this your entire career and you’re going to dedicate yourself to the security of the multiverse— at least be good at it.

“Think this asshole got lost, poor wee lamb.” You quipped as you landed on the rooftop the other were standing on. You carelessly threw Goblin off your shoulder and he grunted as he hit the concrete on his back. The sound of pain coming from him almost humanizing him a bit, and you curled your lip derisively as he broke out into a mad grin seconds later.

Whilst you were distracted staring at Norman, Miguel withheld his sudden and intense urge to upheave all the contents in his stomach. His heard felt like lead as it plummeted to his toes, knots in his stomach winding themselves up tightly at the sound of your voice.

“[Y/Name]?”

You looked up when the man of the two variants spoke, and there was a flicker of recognition in your stomach at the voice. Recognition that swiftly turned to course and fiery hot rage that flowed through your blood like magma.

“How dare he?!”

The man pulled his mask off his face and there he was, your father, Miguel O’hara.

“How dare he return here?!”

You took an instinctive step back from him when he revealed his face. And you flinched internally when you saw it, he looked miserable.. eyes bloodshot and brows downturned to put a deep and painful scowl on his face.

He looked broken.. hurt.

And the twisted and vengeful feelings inside you felt good at the prospect of him hurting. You liked that look on his face.. because he more than deserved whatever put it there.

Miguel watched as you stepped back, you didn’t remove your mask as he did. Just stood there frozen as you stared at him. Then the eyes of your mask narrowed and he could abruptly feel the heat of your glare searing into his skin. Angry and painful.

“Parker— that fucking bastard, we’ll kill him.”

“We?” The woman spoke and you looked from your father to her. She had darker skin and a styled afro, her mask was more or less goggles on her face and Venom snickered inside your head at the mental insult you made.

You decided to ignore her question, the passive aggressive tone she took not inclining you to be cooperative with her at all.

“As far as we know Osborne was the only one who got into this universe,” you informed choosing to look back to Miguel to address him instead of the woman. “So gather him and go home.”

“[Y/Name] wait!—”

“Don’t. You’re just here for him right?” You queried gesturing to Norman when you referred to him. Then you were facing Miguel again. “Take him and get out. We’re finished here.” You weren’t granted the chance to see his reaction— immediately doing what you thought was best for you and getting out of the uncomfortable spot his return had put you in.

And you swung away as you ignored the calls of your name he roared into the night. You didn’t want anything to do with him, and there was nothing you owed to that bastard. Not a damn thing.

And as you swung away from that rooftop you felt angry at the fact that you could feel your guarded heart hurt in deep and stinging agony once again— because of him.

And you felt a twitch of disgust in yourself twist itself into a knot within your chest, born at the expense you felt you were dishonoring Venom by being hurt you saw your father again.

After all, it was them that had healed you six years ago when they had first bonded with you. And it was them and them alone that had healed that ache in your heart.

“Kid.”

“Please Venom, not now.”

They went silent after that, and you stayed quiet too as you swung through the city. You just wanted to be at home, safe and comfortable in the warmth of your own space. Just so you could calm the roaring of your blood and thunderous heart in the security and peace that your home brought you.

You knew that now that he knows you’re still alive he’ll come back, and you’re not sure how the next time will go.. this time you just wanted out. The way your heart had picked up and the way your blood quickened had made you just want to be isolated and safe.

You’re not so sure which feeling will take more presence next time— but you could promise this; the rage you had briefly felt, that died behind the feeling of ache and hurt but still lingered, was strong. If it took province over every other feeling next time you could promise it wouldn’t end well.

Not for Miguel.

Not for you.

And not for the multiverse.. the same multiverse he had been so keen on protecting—

The multiverse he had chosen over you.

—

a/n: I did this during a tattoo on my ribs— and the wipe down continues to be my least favorite part of adding tattoos to my body, cause how can I sit through a tattoo just fine then get weak on the wipe down? 🥲🤌🏽

#across the spider verse #spiderverse #miguel o’hara #jessica drew #peter b parker #miguel o’hara x reader #venom x reader #spiderverse x reader #venom x platonic!reader #miguel o’hara x daughter!reader #platonic reader

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pixiexdusts-world · 1 year

Text

Incorrect quote

Bucky: Dumbest scar stories, go!

Y/n: I burned my tongue once drinking tea.

Natasha: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and burned it.

Steve: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade.

Tony: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it on my hand and got a really bad burn.

Peter: …

Peter: I have emotional scars.

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i-cant-sing · 10 months

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do you think yandere platonic miguel prefers to sedate his kid with his venom when attempting to cuddle/bond with them or is manhandling them into submission his preferred method?

I just- I just can't stop imagining Peter B stumbling upon you guys and going "😳😳😳Miguel??? My man??? Why is your child lying paralysed in your lap????🥺🥺🥺 What do you mean its because you want to bond with her??? As what- her paralysis demon?😭 Miguel, stop this is not parenting, this is traumatising your child 101- LOOK AT HER, SHES CRYING!😭😭😭😭😭"

#yandere miguel #yandere miguel ohara #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere peter parker #yandere peter b parker #yandere atsv #yandere miguel x reader #platonic miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader

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screechcat · 11 months

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Y/n looking around the common room, with all of the Avengers talking, playing board games, and watching movies.

They sigh in content, finally feeling relaxed and safe.

Sam: What are you so smiley about L/n?

Y/n hums: Just happy is all

The others glance around at each other and smile. Y/n had been pretty new. Coming from a bad background like most of them. This was the first time they said something like that.

Tony: I think this calls for an Avengers pile.

Y/n's eyes widen in horror.

Y/n: Dude, I said I was happy, not wanting death.

Thor: To late!

All of the Avengers pile onto the couch with Y/n effectively trapping them.

Y/n struggles and tries to get away.

Y/n: Guuuuuuysssss! Get offah me! This sucks!

Nat hums: Bull

The others murmur agreements.

Not too long after Y/n gives up and just lets it happen.

Y/n: ..... okay, maybe this is nice

Peter: I knew you loved us!

Y/n half asleep but still sarcastic as ever: Don't tell my teammates. It'll go to their heads.

They chuckle, and after a while, they all drift off to sleep.

It was a sight to see for Maria the next morning. The Earth's Mightest Heros and most skilled people in a giant pile on the couch happily sleeping.

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oopwoop · 9 months

Text

Their Reaction To You Getting/Saying You Want A Piercing

pairings: e!42! & e!1610 Miles Morales, Hobie Brown, Pavitr Prabhakar, Gwen Stacy, Peter B. Parker (platonic)

warning(s): swearing, unedited!

im back on my grind 💪 (sorry for not posting recently, had no motivation)

e!1610! Miles Morales

stared in surprise for a bit until he heard you call out his name. He didn’t mean to zone out and stare, or make you insecure, he was just surprised when he saw you got a piercing. you didn’t say anything about getting one or anything. he thinks you look amazing though! (he always will no matter what)

asks if he can touch it unless it’s a tongue piercing, if it’s too sensitive or sore. he understands. shouldn’t mess with it too much otherwise it won’t heal as well.

reminds you everyday to clean it with saline water. twice a day! or however much/long the piercer said.

tells you that you should get a black and red one depending on the type it is.

“woahhh..” Miles gasped quietly as he stared in awe for the next few moments, snapping it out of it when he heard his name. he felt bad when he noticed the nervous look on your face.

“is it bad? do you you not like it?” you asked sadly, upset that he may not like it. sure, you got the piercing because you wanted it but it’d still be nice to know that Miles thought it looked well.

he gave you a shocked look, shaking his head. he grabbed your hand comfortingly and kissing your cheek, careful not to touch your piercing depending on where it is.

“no, no! it looks wonderful. you look wonderful! suits you very well.” he whispered lovingly and kissing your cheek again. it’s good to know he liked it. he really does think you look amazing.

e!42! Miles Morales

did a double take. not out of disgust but more so out of surprise. usually when you get something done or are going out he gives you money, even though he knows you are fully capable he enjoys spoiling you. so it was a surprise when you came over with a brand new piercing that he didn’t know about or pay for.

tells you look good and just goes about what he was doing. doesn’t make a huge deal of it. though, a few minutes later he does ask why you didn’t say anything about it.

also reminds you to clean it, or at least s asks if you did everyday until it’s healed.

will buy you all the jewelry you want for it. will even buy a few he thinks matches his vibe, hoping you wear them. if not he’s not butt hurt or anything, though.

“looks good.” he hums out nonchalantly before returning to what he was doing beforehand. you respond with your thanks. the next few minutes are spent in a comfortable silence, the two of you enjoying each others company until Miles breaks it.

“so, why didn’ you say anythin’? i’d give you the money for it.” he questions, raising a brow as he turns to you. usually you tell him about stuff like this and he gives you money for it.

“mmm, just felt like it, y’know? wanted to treat myself for once. not that i don’t love you spoiling me but it feels nice once and a while to gift myself something.” you explain to him as he nods in understanding.

“yeah i get it.. next time ‘m payin’ though, got it?” he states firmly. you know he’s gonna find a way to pay for your next one for sure.

Pavitr Prabhakar

beyond excited when he noticed it. gasped super loudly when he saw it and rushed over to you. just like the other two, he had no idea of this happening. he also asks you a thousand questions about it.

showered you in compliments on how good you look, how it fits you perfectly, all of it. also showers you in soft kiss around your face, being really careful not to mess with the piercing as he’s worried to hurt you on accident.

he also reminds you to wash it everyday. setting reminders on his phone to text or call you. or if y’all are together he’ll help wash it if he can, being as gentle as possible. he has a bottle of saline spray at his house for whenever you’re over and need to clean it.

sends you pictures of jewelry he sees when he’s out and about, asking if you’d like it. if so he will definitely buy it for you. does not care about the price. if he doesn’t have enough now he’ll save up for it. (jewelry is expensive 😃)

“woah! you look so good! when did you get it? did it hurt?” Pavitr said happily and he rushed over to you, grabbing your cheeks softly to examine the piercing closer.

you chuckle at his antics, grabbing his wrists so you could pull his hands away to be able to speak properly. “slow your roll, Pav. i got it today and it hurt as much as i thought it would.”

“absolutely gorgeous. i knew you’d rock it, even though you never told me. why didn’t you tell me?” he continues to chatter fast, it was hard to keep up with him. he was just excited for you though. he knew you’d only get a piercing if you really wanted it.

“wanted to surprise you.” you smiled at him as he started to peck your face with a bunch of soft kisses. you didn’t think he’d be this excited over a piercing.

Gwen Stacy

was surprised when you said you wanted a piercing but was excited for you. she helps set up the appointment and everything, goes with you for comfort if needed, let’s you squeeze her hand as well.

if you let her, she’d pick out the one you get. she wouldn’t suggest one that hurts really bad though, depending on your pain tolerance.

definitely picks out the jewelry for it if you let her. it’d be a soft pink or blue fs.

so, she has her brow pierced so i feel like maybe she might get more piercings. maybe like her septum or a normal nose piercing, yeah? if it’s around the same time you got your piercing she’d set an alarm for the both of you and if you’re together at the time you’d clean it together or she’d ft you and y’all would do it on call

Incoming FaceTime Call From

gwendy ❤️

Answer Ignore

you decided to answer the call and when you did all you saw was her eyes and up until a few moments later. Her face popped into the screen, a huge smile as she noticed you answered.

“i’m assuming you already know what time it is, yeah?” she shook the can of saline in a jazz-hands gesture, chuckling as you rolled your eyes playfully.

“yeah, yeah.. just let me get to my bathroom.. you always call me when i’m in bed and comfy” you sigh, your tone whiney and exaggerated.

“oh boo-hoo.. you’ll be okay. now get your butt up and go clean your piercing. don’t want an infection, do you?” gwen raised a brow at you. her expression felt similar to a judge-y mothers.

Hobie Brown

when you said you wanted a piercing he was more than willing to do it himself, free of charge. all of his have either been done my someone he’s friends with (for free) or himself. he’s got all the supplies needed and knows how to do most piercings. you wouldn’t be the first person he’s given them to.

if you do let him do it, it’ll be the same as if you were to have gone to a trained professional. just more.. homey? sure it’s a little more risky, but think about it, it’s free of charge (it’s expensive, my septum was $100), plus it’s with someone you know and should by now trust

if you go to a professional he doesn’t really care. it’s your money you’re spending.

totally steals jewelry for you if you wanna change it out once it’s healed. helps you clean it, as well. he knows the perfect way to clean it well so it doesn’t get infected.

“d’ya want me t’ do it? cuz i can, free of charge too, luv.” hobie suggested when you said you wanted a piercing. you weren’t sure if you should take up his offer. he could tell you were hesitant about it so he continued on.

“i’ve done a good few piercings b’fore. some of my own, actually. y’ can trus’ me, promise.” that helped you feel a little better. his looked so good so that must mean he’d be able to do yours even better. especially because doing a piercing on another seems easier than doing one on yourself.

“yeah.. okay sure, i’ll let you do it. but if you fuck it up I won’t be happy..” you glared at him, letting him lead you to the living room of your place to sit and get ready.

“y’won’ hafta worry ‘bout bein’ angry, luv cuz i won’ fuck it up.” he chuckled deeply as he got the needed supplies ready and kissed your forehead.

Peter B. Parker (my first time writing him so sorry if it sucks 🫢)

was probably the most surprised of all. he doesn’t care that you got one, not at all, he’s just surprised you didn’t say anything. your like a kid to him, you tell each other almost everything.

definitely pats you on the shoulder or back and tells you that it looks good and suits you well.

randomly gifts you new jewelry for it. it’s usually stuff he thinks fits you well or one he knows you’ve been looking at. how does he get the money for it? begs MJ until she says yes. though she says yes really quickly because she loves you like a kid as well.

i feel like he can be really forgetful with some things so he’s not as consistent as the others to remind you to clean it. it’ll be more here and there that he reminds you

“when did that happen..?” he says slowly, mouth agape in surprise. “you never told me about that. we tell each every.” peter mutters with a pout, sad you didn’t tell him about this.

“oh this?” you say, pointing to the piercing, “just got it a bit ago. wanted it to be a surprise. does it look good..?”

he just chuckled and walked up to you, patting you on the back firmly. what is with dads and their firm pats? “looks great, kid. suits you very well. you think i’d rock one? i should totally get one, yeah?”

“uhm, yeah, if you want mj to leave you then you should, old man..” you joke with him and return you get a gasp from him.

“i’m not old! and she wouldn’t leave me. i’d look amazing, even better than you!”

#across the spiderverse #miles morales #fanfic #miles morales x reader #gwen stacy #hobie brown #pavitr prabhakar #gwen stacy x reader #hobie brown x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #peter b parker #peter b parker x reader #platonic x reader

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