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Bucky’s F ’ ing Knife
Pairings: Bucky x Reader Summary: Title about summons it up. Warnings: 18+, knife and fear play, small part about blood, slight dub-con Words: 2648
a/n: Happy Birthday, @sherrybaby14 Thanks for the all laughs and great stories- wishing you the best, Birthday Girl- lots of love to you!
Bucky left you standing by the door as he walked further into the bedroom, “Want you to do something for me.” Looking at how serious he was, your laughter trailed off from the joke he told moments before in the hallway.
“Do you trust me? Cause I plan on collecting the favor you owe me.”
Bucky’s confidence seemed to take up even more of the bedroom as you stared from the doorway. His sudden change in attitude made you tiptoe into your question, “What’s the favor?”
With a greedy half-smile he said, “Wanna to play with the knife, darlin.”
You cleared your throat trying to hide the tiny thrill running through you. This was your opportunity to finally ask him, “Will you wear the mask?”
Arms crossed his chest, he wasn’t about to answer your question so easily, “You addin’ a favor on top of the one I’m collecting from you?”
Maybe this wasn’t the ideal opportunity to ask like you thought. Bucky didn’t give any indication of answering your request, he waited for your next move. He had you and your hopeful curiosity right where he wanted. He thought you were such delectable prey; wringing your hands, biting your lip as you tried to convince him and yourself that you’re ready for this.
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All I want for Christmas is youuuuuu!
Imagine if you were with Logan but he hurt you and couldn't get past it, and broke things off. Years and years later, he finds you in SHIELD and you're married to James Buchanan Barnes.
Somebody That I Used To Know
Bucky Barnes x Mutant! Fem! Reader! x Logan Howlett
"You okay?"
As much as you wanted to say you were fine, that possibly seeing Logan again wouldn't do anything to you, you knew you couldn't lie. Logan hurt you emotionally that day, so much that it took yourself ten years to recover.
But now you have a loving husband by your side - you're not alone anymore, and he always made sure that he always knew your pain.
"I'll try to be," You admitted as he curled his fingers with yours.
"It's been so long."
"He's probably a crippling old man by now," Bucky joked, knowing that your healing factor was the only thing keeping you young.
But also knew it went the same way for Logan.
"Then you must be dating the oldest woman of the century," You joked, feeling the nerves starting to slip away until the elevator dinged.
Professor X came in, then Mystique, then Beast, and then. . .Logan. You immediately objected to working with the X-Men, but Fury and Tony were surprisingly working together for once on this. They wanted to make sure we knew of all the heroes we could so that we can call on eachother if something happens.
"(Y/N), it's been too long, dear. How have you been?" Proffessor immediately greeted you.
"I've been great. How's the school?" You asked, trying to avoid the obvious eyes staring at you.
"Growing better every year. You can always come by and visit, it's your home too."
"Did you get married?!" Mystique burst out, making your heart jump once you realized that Logans eyes were now on your hand.
"It was a bit rushed with everything going on, but yes. Raven, Professor, Henry, Logan, this is my husband, Bucky," You proudly introduced Bucky to everyone, who's hand was wrapped around yours.
"Sargeant Barnes, it's an honor to meet you," Henry immediately shook his hand, admiring his metal arm, "Oh wow, that's Vibranium, isn't it? This is incredible work. Oh, is Dr. Banner here?"
"Slow your roll, bub, we're here for a meeting. This isn't a convention," Logan finally spoke up, and you merely glanced at him. Of course he hadn't aged, and you hated that he looked back at you. You hated how he still had that longing look in his eye because you would enjoy it if he never left you. If he never broke your heart.
"I have way too many questions. How'd you guys meet?" Raven asked, and since you had an hour to spare, you decided why not.
But Bucky spoke first.
"HYDRA didn't want to let me go, so I was on the run. Steve and (Y/N) wouldn't give up on me, they knew that I had been framed for the murder of King T'Chaka. I guess we officially met when I knocked you off the building," Bucky said nonchalantly.
"Wait, no," You realized, "I attacked you that night with Fury, by using the vines that grew on the rooftop to hold you down, but you broke out of them and kicked me in the stomach."
"Oh, yeah! I didn't really remember that. But, she always advocated for my innocence and I remember during the car chase, I couldn't stop staring at you because I had never seen a woman so beautiful and strong," Bucky smiled at you, to which you felt your cheeks become warm. Even after two years, he still managed to get you flustered.
"And then you fell off the motorbike."
You saw Logan out of the corner of your eye, just rolling his eyes and looking around the Avengers headquarters, trying to pay attention to anything else.
"He only made a move when we were in Wakanda. I stayed to make sure he was going to be okay, and I wanted to get to know him better. We were in his hut and just talking about his life before Winter Soldier, and he asked to kiss me," Even during the 21st century and a man wanted for homicide, he was still a gentleman and wanted to make sure you were comfortable before making any moves.
"That's so cute! You guys just sound like you're made for eachother," Raven fawned over the both of you.
"I'm happy that you've found someone to be with, (Y/N). You both seem very happy together," Professor knew your history with Logan, but only knowing James for a few minutes, he saw just how deserving you were of this love and how genuinely happy he made you.
____
After the meeting, Stark offered them to stay the night and a few days to check out our facilities and as happy as you were to catch up with Raven, you didn't want to be alone with Logan.
Which is what happened.
You got up at two a.m. to get a quick snack and a drink, and just as you were gonna go back to bed, you turned to see Logan standing a few feet away from you.
"Hey," You muttered.
"So, you've been here all this time?" He asked.
"Yeah, just helping the world and. . .stuff," It was awkward, especially when Logan got closer and you kept your robe tight around you.
"Can he even control that thing?" Logan questioned, referring to Buckys arm.
"He can control it just fine because it's apart of himself," You insisted with a bite in your tone.
"He doesn't get nightmares?"
"Atleast he's doing something to help himself," Logan was taken aback by your tone, but understood why you'd be angry.
"I hope you know that I'm not going back, Logan. I'm happy here, and I'm happy with Bucky," You summed up.
"And yet you act like him beating you was so normal."
Your eyes widened, "He couldn't stop himself! He was brainwashed, under control by HYDRA. You know what? I don't have to explain shit to the boy who couldn't even get help for himself," and rushed past him.
But he grabbed your arm, "(Y/N), I'm sorry. I'm sorry for leaving you-"
"You shouldn't be sorry for leaving me," You cut him off, making him loosen his grip on you, "you should be sorry for letting yourself wallow in your own guilt, in your own self hatred, and for abandoning me thinking I was going to be able to pick myself up at the end of it. For not getting help. Logan, I. . .I know that I still care about you, but the love I had for you is long gone. I'm not sorry for falling in love with Bucky. I'm only sorry that you thought you could have me back."
With that, you walked away and Logan felt it all just crumble. Instead of fighting someone to get help and pleading for them to stay, you found someone who knew he needed help and was working to be better, and who was going to stay through all the hard trials.
You found better.
You found Bucky.
Loki has always been fascinated by humans, and used to sneak off to Midgard to watch how they lived and interacted. He met a girl who was getting bullied, and scared her bullies so much that they never spoke to her again.
Years later, you're working for Stark, and Loki recognizes you.
"Darling (Y/N), how long has it been? How about we have a little chat."
Steve always insisted that Peggy was his soulmate, despite not seeing any colors. When he came out of ice and saw you, his best friend from all those years ago, the colors finally showed up.
"It was you, (Y/N). . .it was always you."
Honestly, Peter Parker and Musa would be a power couple
Bucky couldn't make sense of why you were trying to help him and Steve. As a Mutant, you have your own problems, but you wanted to clear Buckys name.
He caught your wrist and saw numbers tattooed into your skin, and that's when he realized what you were the very few who survived in the Concentration Camps.
"My name is (Y/N) Lensherr, my brother was in the camps with me too. We did our best to survive, but in the end he just wanted blood and I couldn't watch him hurt other people. But Bucky, you didn't have a choice. That's why I'm helping you."
If a blind man can find the clit, then you should be able to
INFINITELY YOU
part three // spitfire
SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.
WARNINGS - 18+, minors DNI
WORD COUNT - 4.5k
// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // no way home fan fiction // rewrite
name key: tom!peter = peter // andrew!peter = parker // tobey!peter = pete
On the walk back from Peter Pan’s, it seemed as though Parker had managed to entirely escape the sputtering awkwardness that had ensnared him the night before.
And, after countless city blocks of listening to him babble about absolutely everything and anything, you realized that there was one very striking similarity between him and Peter.
Both boys had a fervent interest in all things nerd.
“New Hope takes place nearly two decades after the rise of the Galactic Empire, meaning that Leia is only nineteen when she's kidnapped and forced aboard the Death Star! Which is like, absolutely insane, right? Seriously! Imagine being nineteen years old and stuck inside of something that has the potential to obliterate an entire planet!”
Shoving open the lobby door to your complex, Parker hardly even waits for you to hum your agreement before continuing his retelling of the Star Wars film.
“And at the exact same time, Luke is finally beginning his Jedi training! Which, honestly, nineteen is actually super old for that, but-”
Moving towards the stairs, Parker close on your heels, you cut him off with a question. “Too old? Nineteen is hardly even an adult,” you argue. “What age do most Jedi start training?”
“About four or five, so obviously Luke was way behind,”
Not even a full three stairs up, you come to a grinding halt, leaving Parker to bump into your back. “Four?!” You cry out, wide-eyed as you spin around to face him. “That’s insane!”
Parker only lifts his shoulders, clearly not understanding the reason for your horror.
Furthering your point, you add, “There’s nothing ethical about taking a bunch of little kids and training them to be weird, intergalactic warriors!”
“It’s the best way to train them!” He lifts his hand defensively, explaining, “The earlier they start training, the less likely it is that the kids will have formed an attachment to their families! That way they learn to act out of logic instead of emotion!”
For a heartbeat, you’re rendered entirely speechless by the absurdity of his claim, left to stand with your mouth agape as you blink at him.
“That sounds like emotional abuse,” you finally huff, shaking your head. “Actually, scratch that—it doesn’t sound like emotional abuse, it just is!”
“It’s not abuse-”
You hold a hand up, stopping him before he can say anything else. “Give me one good reason why a group of adults should withhold love and affection from children if they aren’t abusing them.”
“Uh, how about the fact that love is basically what made Anakin turn to the dark side!” Parker scoffs, clearly unwilling to recognize how insane the notion he was pushing actually is.
“Or maybe Anakin turned to the dark side because he was indoctrinated and traumatized by some stupid space cult!”
The expression on his face is downright laughable.
It was as if you had just reached out and slapped him across the face. His jaw went slack, his mouth hung open in blatant offense. As a sputtering noise falls from his lips, trying and failing to come up with a good rebuttal, you smirk.
“Exactly,” you boast, taking his inability to speak as a sign of victory.
Twirling on your heel, you continue up the stairs, nearly all the way to the top before you finally hear him come stomping up behind you.
“The Jedi Order is not a cult!” He finally shouts after you.
Already traipsing through the hallway, fiddling with your keys, you sing-song, “Whatever you say, bug-boy.”
Reluctant to admit defeat, Parker continues grumbling under his breath as you unlock the door, spouting something off about your lack of respect for George Lucas.
“Look,” you tell him, pushing the door open, “if liking Star Wars matters this much to you, then I’ll gladly watch them with you.” A wry smile plays on your lips as you turn to look at him, standing in the doorway, “Maybe watching them will be enough to change my opinion on turning kids into galactic slaves.”
Eyes narrowing in a playful glare, he’s only able to hold the expression for less than a few seconds before a laugh causes him to break character. “I just can’t believe that Peter hasn’t made you watch them already,” he admits. “I had you watch them so much that you could probably recite the scripts from memory alone!”
His amusement dies off as soon as he finishes the sentence. Despite having been the one to bring it up, the mention of his world seems to cast a sullen shadow over him, ruining his sweet, boyish smile.
Curiosity instantly claws at you, begging you to ask him why his world seemed to have such a negative effect on him. Or, rather, why his version of you seemed to have such an effect.
This had happened last night too, when you had asked him if the two of you were friends in his world—and it was because of this that you assume that you’re somehow the common denominator in his discomfort.
Still, you don’t let yourself ask him about it. For as much as you’re starting to like Parker, you don’t know him nearly well enough to try prying into his life.
Not yet, at least.
“Well, you’re more than welcome to force me into sitting through them in this world, too.” You tell him sweetly, sweeping an arm out to gesture inside of your apartment, inviting him. “It’s not like I’ve got any plans for the rest of the day.”
You couldn’t even remember the last time you did have plans. Life had been so quiet since that last night with Peter and Mj—the night when everything went so horribly wrong.
Parker sucks in a breath through his teeth, a hand coming to rest against the back of his neck. “I should probably get back out on the streets,” he reluctantly says, sounding more like he was convincing himself of that than you. “But, I don’t know, maybe we can take a rain check on it, yeah?”
Disappointment washes over you, sudden enough that you’re sure it shines through on your face. It takes a shocking amount of willpower to stop yourself from trying to persuade him to stay, wanting to remind him that two other Spider-Men were already running themselves ragged in pursuit of the villains—so why did he have to go, too?
You had grown used to his constant talking, having found solace in the chatter that kept you from slipping too far into your own thoughts. Selfishly, you wanted him to stay so that you wouldn’t have to be alone; so that you wouldn’t have to risk thinking too long about Doctor Strange or the multiverse or constants or Peter.
The thought of admitting any of that out loud, however, felt incredibly humiliating.
“For sure,” you force a smile, trying to ignore the many thoughts swirling in your mind. Then, eyeing the slightly too-tight Ramones shirt that he’d stolen from you, you add, “But shouldn’t you at least come in and change?”
His nose wrinkles slightly as he shakes his head. “Nah—I think this city has more than enough spider-people swinging around it right now. I figure we might actually benefit from one of us patrolling on the ground-level, y’know? Maybe I can ask around for any giant lizards or blown light bulbs.”
It’s hard to tell if the last bit is meant to be a joke or not, but you laugh anyway if only to avoid knowing why you should be worried about lizards and light bulbs.
“Sounds like a plan,” you second his idea. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later then?”
A surprising sense of joy lights his eyes at the sound of your hesitance, unfitting of the simplicity of the moment, but charming nonetheless. He grins—a wide and endearing sort of grin—as he takes a step back, “I won’t be gone long,” he promises before reminding you, “lock the door behind you, alright? And if you need anything-”
He pauses, patting the pockets of his jeans only to remember that he didn’t bring a phone with him to this universe—and that, even if he did, there likely wasn’t a wireless plan good enough to support multiversal travel.
“If you need anything, call 911.”
“Got it,” you laugh, watching as he stumbles backwards towards the stairwell, cheeks red with faint embarrassment.
Turning to go inside, you can’t ignore the warmth that now blooms in your chest.
You could definitely get used to having him around.
A peculiar sensation prickles at your skin, curling along your spine like icy fingertips.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
The usually comfortable atmosphere of your apartment had shifted. An eerie tension fills the space, a near-suffocating feeling that has the very walls holding their breath, humming a tune of warning as you inch further into the living room.
Your stomach twists as the sharp tang of exhaust fumes fills your nostrils. By the couch, a faint breeze rustles the curtains of a window, wafting in the nauseating scent of the city street below—a window that hadn’t been open when you left earlier.
A mere foot or so away, you notice that the picture frame Parker had been fiddling with before is now lying on its face, having been knocked off the end table and abandoned. Atop the table, you notice that the lamp is sitting askew, its base just inches from tumbling over the edge and joining the frame.
Someone had come in through your window—and it didn’t appear as though stealth had been very important to them, given that they had clearly stumbled into the table upon their entrance.
Adrenaline floods your senses, your spine stiffening as you take a series of slow, quiet steps.
Moving towards the corner, you carefully reach out a hand to grab the metal bat propped against the wall. The bat had been an unlikely housewarming present from when you first moved in, given to you by Peter’s mentor and your own reluctant renegade, Tony Stark. For nearly two years now it had sat in this corner, unused and gathering dust—until now.
You wrap your fingers tightly around the base, wincing slightly as the rubber grip pulls at the still-healing flesh on your palm, making you curse yourself for not properly bandaging the wound last night.
But you’re used to pain—and so you’re easily able to bite back against it as you ease through the living room, checking for any sign of the intruder's presence.
As you walk, gripping the bat like your life depends on it, you can’t help but hear Tony Stark’s voice echo in your mind.
If you’re gonna live alone, then you should have some sort of protection—he had told you, gently placing the cool steel into your hands for the first time, a ribbon tied sloppily around it—not that you need it.
Satisfied with your search of the living room, you start easing towards the hall. You’re good at sneaking around, having had a lot of practice at it—every movement you make is calculated, every footfall so purposefully gentle that it’s nearly silent.
Quiet as you were, you could do nothing to ease the sound of your blood thrumming wildly in your own ears, your heart pounding against your chest.
The incessant beating worries you—because you know that there are people in the world with the unnatural ability to hear such things. Peter, even with his enhanced hearing, had to be close to someone in order to hear something as soft as their heartbeat; but you had heard rumors that there were others who could hear a pulse from miles away, others like the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.
The thought makes your blood run cold, though you try to push the worries from your mind. From what you know, the Devil doesn’t have a habit of breaking into apartments, nor was Queen's his usual jurisdiction.
No—what you were dealing with had to be no more than an average burglar!
An average burglar who, somehow, scaled up the side of a building to break into your apartment…
Alright—you think, approaching the end of the hall—perhaps it’s a not-so-average burglar, then! Still better than the Devil.
Peeling one hand from the bat’s handle, you curl your fingers around the doorknob to the guest room, Parker’s room. You ease the door open slowly, trying to keep the old hinges from crying out as you peer into the space.
The sweet scent of vanilla is the first thing that hits you, contrasted by the subtle bite of vetiver.
Parker—the room smells of him, even though he had only been here for one night.
On the bed, the quilt is rumpled and thrown about, pillows strewn about. The doors of the armoire are wide open, a few old shirts hanging over the edge of one of the shelves, no doubt from when he went digging through your clothes in search of something to wear.
The room was messy, but empty.
Your shoulders sag, half-a-breath loosing from your lungs. The relief is short-lived, however; as by the time you edge back into the hall to turn towards your own door, you’re overwhelmed with dread.
If whoever broke in was still here, then this was the only place they could be—save for the bathroom, though you seriously doubt any burglar would have much interest in scouring through your toiletries…
Easily, gracefully, you twist the knob, the metal yielding quietly to your careful touch.
The curtains are tightly drawn, eradicating any trace of sunlight and leaving the room cloaked in shadows. But, even in the darkness, you’re able to see the rough outline of a figure sprawled out across your mattress.
For a split second, you think of Parker’s advice to call 911, the weight of your phone suddenly heavy in your back pocket.
You think of how you should follow that advice.
You think about how fast you could run—if you would be able to reach the front door before they could catch up to you.
But then you stop thinking, disregarding all logic and reason as you take a step into the room, as if drawn in by some invisible force.
Remaining mindful of your surroundings, you slowly approach the edge of the bed. Squinting in the darkness, you try to study the body laid out atop your comforter. Watching the steady rise-and-fall of their chest, it suddenly hits you that, whoever they are, they’re asleep.
Slinking around the corner and coming to stand at your bedside, you’re finally close enough that you can see them in spite of the absence of light. Crimson and blue spandex clings tightly to their arms as they cling one of your pillows to their chest, and you feel your entire body sag with relief as you loosen your grip on the bat.
So this must be Peter 2.
The fabric of his mask is bunched up and resting along the bridge of his nose, which is somewhat smushed against the pillow he’s holding, no doubt leaving him to breathe in the scent of laundry detergent and your perfume.
Lower, you can make out the subtle contours of his jawline and the curve of soft, pink lips. Higher, you’re met with the impassive stare of then white lenses sewn into his mask.
The lenses shield his eyes from your view, and a curious feeling begins to tug at the furthest corners of your mind. Take it off—it seems to whisper, compelling you to move in closer, your shins pressing against the side of the mattress—take it off.
You grit your teeth and try to ignore the feeling, try to ignore the velvet-voice slithering through your mind; begging you to look at him, to touch him, to notice him, to-
Pain shoots along the side of your temple, likely in response to the sudden tightness in your jaw. It distracts you enough that you’re able to shake the strange feeling long enough to regain your focus—even if the remnants of it still linger.
You shouldn’t be interested in him—you should be pissed at him.
Not only had he broken into your house, which was already bad enough, but he had also climbed into your bed and made himself cozy! The absolute gall, the audacity he must have, has you allowing the tiniest sliver of rage to ignite inside of you.
Both hands still gripping the bat, you lower it from where it rests against your shoulder to swiftly jab its head into his stomach.
A cough sputters past his lips as the impact pushes the air from his lungs.
You’re actually shocked that you landed the blow—in truth, you had expected his spider-sense to kick in and detect the incoming hit, waking him with just enough time to dodge the shot. But, apparently, his instincts had made the mistake of assuming that you were of no threat to him.
“Morning sunshine,” you chime, your feigned cheerfulness set off by a sneer.
He’s scrambling into an upright position, knees sinking into the mattress as he presses a hand against the sore spot you’d created on his stomach. “What the fu-”
His voice is hoarse—from sleep or pain, you’re not sure—and he doesn’t finish the curse spewing from his mouth once his head shoots up towards you, as if finally registering the sound of your voice.
“I don’t know what things are like in your world,” you muse, swinging your bat back to rest against your shoulder, “but in this one, breaking and entering is considered a crime.”
He’s still catching his breath, and while those damn white lenses covering his eyes give so little emotion away, you assume that he’s going to apologize. It’s what Peter would do, and Parker, too.
But not him.
“Your friends said I could stay here,” he defends himself. Taking another deep breath and extinguishing the burning in his lungs, the lower-half of his face transforms into a defiant smirk. “It’s not breaking and entering if you were invited.”
“And did they tell you to sleep in my bed, too?” You shoot back, brows rising in annoyance. “Word of advice: next time you’re invited to stay in a total stranger’s house, maybe try not to repay their kindness by crawling through their window.”
He mocks you without missing a beat, “Word of advice: you live in a shitty neighborhood—if you don’t want people coming through your windows, you should try locking them.”
“Ah, right! Cause the average person is definitely willing to scale the side of a building for the prospect of an unlocked window!”
“You’re a pretty girl in a dangerous city,” he drones, lifting a shoulder as he meets your sarcasm with purposeful calm. “You’d be surprised what people would be willing to do for a chance at getting you alone.”
The insinuation sends a shiver down your spine, but you mask your unease, flashing a smile that’s more predatory than sweet. “Aw,” you coo, “so you think I’m pretty?”
He returns the expression, skillfully avoiding your derisive question. “I think you’re irresponsible—and a little cocky.”
“Better to be cocky than a felon,” you remark. “Just spare my neighbors the acrobatics show next time, would you? Maybe try knocking on the door like a normal person! Preferably when you’re not dressed like… that.”
It’s not that his suit wasn’t nice, because it was. But it lacks the advanced Stark-tech that makes Peter’s suit so uniquely sleek, meaning that it was likely safe to assume that no one in this world would mistake this boy for the real Spider-Man.
Unless they were to catch him scaling up the side of your building…
“I tried knocking.” he sounds exasperated, as if you are testing his patience. “You weren’t home.”
You snort a laugh, wondering if he truly believes that is all the reason he needs to break into someone's home.
“Then you should’ve waited until I got home,”
“I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. I was too tired to wait.”
“Then you should’ve slept in the alleyway with the rest of the strays,” you hiss at him, fingers tightening around the bat as your frustration builds.
The sheer ferocity in your voice gives him pause, stunning him into silence.
Then the corner of his mouth begins to twitch upwards, lazily grinning at you as if he actually enjoys the verbal onslaught.
You can tell that he’s watching you through those white lenses, and his tongue darts over his bottom lip, you feel your breath catch in your throat. “Fine,” amusement dances in his tone as he raises his gloved hands, “fair enough.”
For a moment, no sound comes from your parted lips, leaving you to stand there gaping at him until you remember how to speak. “Fair enough?” You echo, shaking your head slightly. “That’s all you’ve got? No apology?”
He moves, forcing you to take a step back as he shoves his legs over the side of the bed and rises to his feet. He’s not as tall as Parker, but he still stands an inch or so higher than you, making it hard to not feel intimidated as he stares down at you, your own face staring back from the reflection of his lenses.
“Better not push your luck, Spitfire,”
He’s baiting you—he has to be! Using a stupid nickname to get under your skin, to try and prod further at your short temper. And it’s working—god, you hate how much it’s working!—because you find yourself contemplating putting his superhuman durability to the test by whacking him over the head with your bat.
“By the way,” he says before you have a chance to act on your intrusive thoughts, pointing at your hands, “you’re bleeding.”
As if his words switch a flip in your head, you’re suddenly aware of the acute throbbing in your palm. You loosen your grip on the bat, letting it clatter recklessly to the floor as you hold your hand out to examine it.
Unsurprisingly, the rubber handle managed to tear open the barely-healed cut on your palm, courtesy of your too-tight grip on it. You hiss through your teeth, watching as blood oozed from the cut, dripping down towards your wrist.
Slipping past you, the boy only half-manages to stifle his laugh. “You should probably take care of that.”
He’s already slipping out into the hall by the time you regain enough awareness to follow after him, gritting your teeth against the pain.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
“To the other room,” he calls over his shoulder. Once he’s standing in front of Parker’s door, he spins back around to face you, his snarky expression still in-tact. “Where I’m hoping you won’t follow me.”
Everything about him causes your blood to boil—his grating voice, his insolent attitude, his stupid soft lips.
“Would it kill you to be nice to me?” You exclaim, your voice strained with pain as you try to wrap your hand in the lower half of your shirt.
It takes no-time for blood to start seeping through the thin material, and you certainly don’t look intimidating like this—the lower half of your abdomen on display as you try to apply whatever pressure you can to the wound—but you don’t care.
“I don’t have to let you and Parker stay in my house—I’m doing it because I’m nice, alright? And, so far, you’ve been nothing but a dick!”
The thin fabric of his mask shifts, brows furrowing at the mention of Parker. Unlike Peter, however, he doesn’t bother commenting on the nickname. “Nice isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe you. Especially since you’re the one calling me names.”
The levity in his tone makes you want to scream—what was his deal?!
You press harder against your bleeding palm, your breathing turning shallow. You’re not sure if it’s frustration or pain or what, but you feel like your head is spinning. “Look, I don’t know you, alright? But this? Isn’t gonna work,” you bark at him, chin lifted defiantly as you stare into his mask, unrelenting. “If you plan on staying in my house, then you’ll get your shit together—got it?”
His head tilts, curiously watching as you continue your frantic speech.
“No crawling in through my windows or sleeping in my bed or smarting shit off! And take off that stupid mask!” You huff, shaking your head. “Or, I don’t know, pull it down the rest of the way! Just do something because you look stupid like that!”
The words are spewing from your mouth like a torrential downpour, fueled by the rage swirling in your stomach and the throbbing in your hand and—
He laughs, a genuine laugh that isn’t born of derision, and you feel your racing thoughts slow to a halt. “You should work on your insults,” reaching for the nape of his neck, he tugs his mask off. “Because that was pathetic.”
It’s no longer just your thoughts that have slowed, but the entire world. Everything around you feels like it has come skidding to a stop—leaving you staring up at him like a dumbfounded idiot.
He’s beautiful—a commonality among Peter’s variants, it seems.
He’s smirking, an infuriatingly charming smirk that lets you know he has no intention of listening to your demands for him to silence his quick wit. But you’re not focusing on that—no, you’re focusing on the features that had been hidden from you this whole time; his dark hair, tousled from removing his mask, falls in a chaotic halo around his face, contrasting the vibrance of his eyes.
His eyes.
They leave you breathless, and you hate it. Colored with the deepest cerulean you’ve ever seen, his eyes feel like staring into the depths of a crystalline ocean. You can almost feel yourself getting swept up in their tides, feel them enveloping you in a feeling of familiarity, as if this wasn’t the first time you had been pulled into their ebbing waters.
“Have we–” your mouth has gone dry, your voice cracking. “Have we met before?”
It’s a ridiculous question, and you recognize that even as it’s spilling from your lips. You couldn’t have met him before—not when the two of you weren’t even from the same universe!
He seems to be thinking the same thing, and you’re already preparing to take the full force of whatever smartass comment he’s about to fling at you. “I’ve met you,” he says simply, taking you by surprise. Then he inclines his head towards your still-bleeding hand, “You should patch yourself up before you stain the carpet.”
You look down at your hand, at the hem of your shirt, soaked in blood.
“But just so I know,” you look back up, his body half-turned towards the door, his fingers resting against the knob, “if Peter and Parker are already taken, then who does that make me?”
You have to force yourself to take a breath. “What did I call you in your world?” He’s silent for a moment, staring at the floor and chewing on his lip. Then, pushing the door to Parker’s room—their room—open, he smiles.
“Pete.”
a/n - ayyy, pete's finally here! and, ofc, lots of other little important details sprinkled around as well.
also, i really wanna say thank you to everyone who has been reading and enjoying this story so far! it truly means the world to me to read all of the nice comments and to know that you guys are interested in this story! so, again, thank you 💖 as always, please comment/like/reblog and let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!
part four, titled "blooms of subterfuge", to be released april 29th
Shuri : Princess of Wakanda Aesthetic Board
Hey everyoneeee!! I’m back with another character aesthetic board, I’ve done a few for namor, shuri and okoye/ dora milaje. I was debating with myself whether i should post namor x siren! reader or this one, but ended up with this one because the colour palette is quite similar to the first one, slightly turquoise/ greenish blue. I may be biased but i personally think they are *chef kisses* and I can not wait to show you all.
All in all, let’s enjoy this one ! I really enjoy making this one, because purple happens to be my favourite colour after teal blue.
P.S: if you guys still stick around reposting, like or all that jazz, I love y’all from the bottom of my heart. Stick around, because I’ll be posting namor x siren!reader in a couple days 😘😉
It has been 3 weeks after watching Black Panther: Wakanda Forever and that scene... THAT SCENE y’allllll it still stuck and kept replaying at the back of my mind whenever I listen to Con La Brisa..... before y’all come shittin’ on me, here me out, it’s not everyday a king of an underwater empire shows you his hidden empire when they just met likeee...who knew the antagonist can be such a romantic at heart if their situation were to be put upon different context, i.e: no conflict or such. Then he proceeds to kill the her mom and shit just escalates to hell and ruins the vibe. But thank god it didn’t happen though, or else it’d be very odd.
Brb lemme just replace Shuri’s position with myself.. lol
YO AGUA PAPI PLEASE WHISK ME AWAY TO TALOKAN AND LET ME BE YOUR QUEEN!!! I’D DO ANYTHING YOU SAYYY
Namor x Siren! Reader Aesthetic Board
Guess who’s back~~ Back again~~ with..... anotha namor moodboard. I experimented with a slight animation. Hope y’all enjoy this one! Sending hugs, much love and kisses to you all.
The Feathered Serpent God: K’uk’ulkan Aesthetic Board
YOO WHERE MY NAMWHORES AT?!?!?!?
Friends are Lovers
MJ x Fem!Reader
She’s warm in all the places she is cold.
Michelle hadn’t particularly expected gaining a crush on her best friend but, quite frankly it was impossible not to.
It’s dusk. She sleeps peacefully on the bed as she takes in all her features. The slight curl in her eyelashes, the arch in her brows, the way her lips part softly, as she breathes in all the love Michelle, has to give and exhales her own content.
She wishes she would wake up. To take a look at those mesmerizing eyes for even just a moment.
She finds herself leaning down, getting closer to her, closing the space between them and she feels her breath stop. She had never seen someone as beautiful as her, as enthralling as she was.
Her palms are sweaty and even through the thick cushioning of her blanket, she finds herself slipping and falling on her chest.
If Michelle could die from embarrassment she is sure she would pass away now. She stays perfectly still, afraid of the repercussions coming to face her shortly.
She lifts her head up ever so slightly and peers her eyes up to focus on her. She sees her shifting, eyes fluttering open, a yawn escaping past her lips before she can stop it.
She’s looking at her now. Those enchanting, sparkly, mesmerizing eyes, take time out of their day to look at her, Michelle, she feels honored and unworthy all at once. She thinks her heart may stop at this moment. A picture-perfect moment her curly hair is splayed on her cheek.
“Hey stranger” she groggily whispers, softly clearing her throat after the action.
“Hi” Michelle finds herself mumbling back. She feels as if she is going to combust right then and there.
She reaches out for Michelle’s hand which she happily accepts interlocking their fingers immediately. She brushes the back of her palm with her thumb. A soft smile is on her face. Michelle is the reason why she is smiling and fireworks go off in her chest.
“I had a dream about you…about us.”
Michelle has to calm her heart rate down as she asks her, “what about us?”
“It was silly but…I loved it. We had our own apartment here in the city. I have no idea how we could afford it but-”
The two share a soft laugh, eyes twinkling at one another.
“But it was nice. It was just us.” She smiles at her again before whispering “I love you, Michelle”
Michelle grins back, “not more than I love you more, Y/n.”
Youngblood Series
Hello Lovelies !!
I am currently working a collection of reader-insert one shots inspired by marvel men. All of them are based off of the Youngblood album by 5sos.
The album contains 16 songs, and when I reach 8 one shots I'll make the masterlist. If anyone wants to proofread for me, shoot me message!
- H
—i wish i could take your pain away too
pairing: wanda maximoff x sister!reader
summary: wanda had just lost pietro, but there was still someone who’d like to comfort her.
warnings: mentions of death (suicide) and grief
authors note: check out treacherous on my wattpad!! (@lovelyxblossom)
wanda laid on her bed in the compound. she had just finished counting the lamps and was now moving on to the dark patches, as it knocked on her door.
“Come in” she called, without moving a muscle
“how are you?“ wanda would’ve instantly groaned if it weren’t for the person asking the question.
y/n walked into the room, laying down next to her sister.
“it feels different- lonely. we were never separate”
y/n nodded her head and took wandas hand in hers. “i can still feel him“ she said. “it makes me think about sokovia. when we were kids. he would hold my hand when we went to the market, he never left my side“
“I’m sorry, I’ve been locked away all week, I should’ve come to you, I’m the older sister, not you“
“don’t be. i assumed it would be worse for you. you knew him longer and you’re his twin“
“that doesn’t change anything, y/n. he was still your brother“
y/n smiled and laid her arms around her sister. “he will be fine, I’ll take care of it“
tears rolled down both their faces.
“i know you will” wanda said after a few seconds of silence.
“i wish i could do anything for you though”
“you just did”
y/n looked at her with sorrowful eyes, as she shook her head.
“wanda, i wish i could take your pain away too”
before wanda could answer, she sensed a presence behind the door and sighed.
“vision?”
“i apologize I don’t mean to intrude”
“you don’t?”
“well, i suppose, yes i did intend to come in here”
wanda chuckled and patted the empty spot to her right. “come here”
vision looked around the room in question before sitting down next to her.
“were you alone this whole time? i heard you talking so i-“
“i spoke to my sister”
“but, wanda? you don’t have a sister”
“i had a sister. her name was y/n she died while she was experimented on“
“oh, i apologise. you two were the only ones to survive the experiments, so I just thought…“
“..that it was just us two. only pietro and i“ wanda finished for him.
“yes. but why was it different with her?“ vision asked unsurely. “wasn’t she strong enough?”
at that wanda snapped. “she was stronger than pietro and i combined”
“I’m sorry wanda, I shouldn’t have-“
“no it’s alright. you couldn’t know. the experiments worked on us all. especially her. her abilities were unbelievable powerful. she was able to communicate with the dead, change someone’s destiny. bring death or take it away. she could do as she pleased. her powers had no limit. and that was the problem“
she made a pause and took visions hand in hers. “they- they wanted to see if there was a limit, so they let her use her powers on people, innocent people. random men and women, sometimes even children. she only did it because she was promised that pietro and i would be killed if she didn’t obligated. she was so happy when she was a child, but once these powers consumed her, she became sad and the darkness started to control her. but she was always kind, so she resisted just enough”
vision drew his hand through wandas hair, as he listened to her story.
“then came the day. they brought us to watch- me and pietro. and they brought in a little boy. he screamed and cried and y/n did too. but she had to kill him. but when it came to the resurrection she couldn’t do it. i remember her laying on the floor, trying to wake the little boy. and i could hear her scream”
vision looked down at that
“and she looked at us, and she looked so much younger than you look like at 15, because she was just a child. a little girl, and they made a killer out of her. I told them to bring her out to us. to let us calm her down and comfort her. pietro screamed at the guards as they said no to our appeal. and our little sister, she was still there, in the white, isolated box, the dead little boy next to her. she kept looking at us. i could see her veins turn dark when she touched the boys heart, like they did every time she took away someone’s pain. I could see her cry and plead. and i took pietros hand because I was scared. I was so scared”
wanda cried silently. vision intertwined their fingers and tried to sooth her.
“when the black veins reached her shoulders, that was the moment I realised something was wrong. she kept crying and screaming and we could still hear it through the thick glass. she seemed to be in immense pain, both physically and mentally. I was in a trance, I just stood there as i watched and cried.”
vision softly squeezed her hand, watching helplessly as tears ran down wanda’s face.
“but pietro pleaded to take her out, to stop whatever was going on. but they said no. they kept repeating that they wanted to see where this was going so we just stood there and did nothing. her cries grew louder and finally we could hear a last scream, before she collapsed on the floor. then nothing. nobody did anything. they waited. and after 20 minutes of us pleading and nothing happening the little boy sat up. that was the moment i knew. our sister had given her life to save someone else’s. we could just see the back of her head. and when they turned her around we screamed, her hair had turned from red to black. her whole face was littered with black veins and her eyes didn’t look like a bright blue sky anymore. the wouldn’t even let us to her. they just took her away”
“I’m so sorry wanda, that is horrible. and now this whole thing with pietro. I can’t put into words what I’d like to say to you”
“don’t worry vision. as I said before, I just talked to y/n, she told me that pietro was save and that she was able to take his pain away”
“but is it real? when you talk to her I mean? or is it only in your head?”
“if it’s just in my head, it doesn’t make it anything less real, does it?”
“I suppose you’re right”
they fell into silence as they watched the stars outside of wandas window.
wanda only looked away when she heard a cough. she turned to her door. there stood y/n and next to her- pietro! they both smiled and waved at her and wanda did it back. she watched as y/n took pietros hand in her own, just like she did when they were children-, and they both threw a last lingering gaze at wanda. then they walked through the door as they vanished into thin air.
——
-> just posted my maximoff sibling fic (evina maximoff) on my wattpad profile (lovelyxblossom)
here’s the link:
If you want to check it out, I’d be happy
marvel masterlist
fluff (f), angst (a), suggestive (s), platonic (p), injury/ blood (w), humor (c)
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❛ 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 ❜
────────────────────────
𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟 (1.1k)
i wish I could take your pain away too (1.1k) — after pietro's death, you try to comfort your sister (a,p)
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𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐦!𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 (4.3k)
fix me up (1.6k) — there's nothing peter can do to save your life (a)
underneath the tree (1.2k) — you and peter both struggle to find the perfect gift and end up proving why you belong together (f,w)
tolerate it (1.5k) — maybe you and peter had done a good job at ignoring your problems, or maybe there was nothing worth saving anymore (a)
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𝐦𝐜𝐮!𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 (5.1k)
a holly jolly christmas (0.4k) — just a few domestic headcanons about living with the avengers (f)
lacy (2.7k) —peter parker was everything you wanted to be, but you just couldn't hate him for it (f,a,s)
hey stephen (2k) —you and peter have to fix a little mistake one of the avengers made. luckily you're a great team (f,c)
────────────────────────
7 works
—hey stephen
pairing: peter parker x fem!stark!reader
summary: you and peter have to fix a little mistake one of the avengers made. luckily you're a great team
warnings: flirting, theft lol
note: i realized too late i hadn't put it in the queqe lol!
the night sky loomed above you, a soft haze of stars disappearing into the city’s light pollution. a high-rise office building stretched into the clouds, and at its base, peter was already halfway up, scaling the glass like it was nothing. your fingers tapped the device your dad had insisted you bring, ensuring your escape route was intact—just in case.
"the probability of falling to your death is one in three," you called out, voice laced with dry amusement as you watched peter's slow climb from the ground.
from above, peter’s voice crackled through your earpiece, laced with sarcasm. "what do the statistics say about people with spider-powers?" he paused to look down at you, clearly rolling his eyes beneath the mask.
with a smirk, you tapped the small stark tech device on your wrist, instantly teleporting yourself from the ground to the roof he was climbing toward. when you appeared, you peeked over the ledge to see him still climbing, almost there. "they say, that they're kind of slow."
peter stopped climbing and turned his head in your direction, scowling up at you. "ha ha" he muttered, clearly unimpressed. still, you could see a grin forming under the mask as he climbed up the last few feet. "and what do they say about people with teleporting powers and stark-level egos?"
you quirked a brow, amusement dancing on your lips. "that we don’t have time to climb up buildings for fun," you shot back.
"whatever" he replied playfully, as he walked around you, to look through the glass of the roof and into the room beneath it. "do we have any information about the security system?"
"vision has already gotten rid of any alarms or anything else, but we still have a problem"
peter and you stared through the glass next to each other, as larry, the security guard, walked through the hallway. he was one of the kind who took their jobs a tad bit too seriously.
the museum was a place that had never been robbed before, solemnly because of larry.
you loved when your dad would pick you out to go on a mission, the higher the stakes, the better, but he had not disclosed what kind he was sending you on this time, before you had agreed.
normally this was far beyond the mission any of the avengers would take on, but thor had accidently packed on of your dads and bruce's invitation into a box you had planned to gift to the museum.
you had asked him if there was no way to just invent it again, to which tony had rolled his eyes and exclaimed with theatrical dramaticness that there was no way in hell anyone in new york, let alone america would survive, if the little device got into the wrong hands.
both you and peter had advised him not to build life-threatening devices ever again.
but now you were here and there was no way back.
"whatever" peter replied playfully, walking around you to peer through the glass on the roof, his eyes scanning the room below. "do we have any information about the security system?"
"vision’s already taken care of the alarms and cameras," you answered, eyes still locked on the space beneath. "but we’ve got a problem."
you and peter stood shoulder to shoulder, staring down through the reinforced glass at the one obstacle neither of you had expected: larry, the security guard. he was patrolling the museum’s halls with an intensity that would put some SHIELD agents to shame. larry was infamous for taking his job way too seriously, a fact that had somehow kept this museum entirely free of robbery attempts.
peter let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "that’s larry, isn’t it? guy’s basically the captain america of museum security.”
"yup," you sighed, arms crossed as you watched larry methodically sweep each room like he was guarding the crown jewels. "this mission is supposed to be high-stakes, not high-annoyance."
your father had pulled you into this last-minute mission, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the memory of his over-the-top explanation for why this was necessary. thor had accidentally packed one of tony's and bruce’s experimental devices in a gift box meant for this museum, and now that same device was on display, tucked away in some artifact. to tony, this was practically a world-ending catastrophe.
"couldn't you just, you know... build another one?" you had asked at the time, exasperation dripping from your voice.
tony had responded by rolling his eyes dramatically, as if you’d just suggested throwing away the mona lisa. "do you want the wrong hands getting this tech? because that’s how we all end up in serious, world-ending trouble."
that, of course, had been enough to get you and Peter on board. especially after the last world-ending trouble, your father had been involved in, had led to robots invading sokovia and ripping it out of the ground.
but now, staring at larry pacing the hallway like he was auditioning for an action movie, you were starting to regret that decision.
"we’ve got to get him out of there" peter whispered. "or this is going to get messy fast"
you nodded. "and vision can’t mess with his comms or knock him out—he’s just a regular guy, after all. we can’t exactly web him up and call it a day"
"yeah" peter agreed. "but we can’t just waltz in either. larry’s about three steps away from spotting us and sounding the alarm. and there goes our quiet heist"
peter shifted beside you, fidgeting like he always did when he was thinking up a plan. you could practically see the gears turning in his head. he turned to you, his face half-hidden under the mask, but you could feel the grin even if you couldn’t see it. "how good are you at distractions?"
you raised an eyebrow. "depends on the distraction. what are you thinking?"
peter leaned down, pointing at the far end of the hallway where a ventilation shaft led into the room larry was patrolling. "you teleport down there, maybe drop something—make some noise. when larry goes to investigate, i’ll slip in and get the device"
you glanced at the vent, calculating the distance between it and larry’s patrol route. it could work. you could make just enough noise to pull him out of the main exhibit area without alerting him too much.
“fine” you muttered, already prepping yourself. “but you owe me.”
peter chuckled, tapping the side of his mask. "i’ll pay you back in kisses. how’s that?"
"disgusting, actually" rolling your eyes, you disappeared in a flash, teleporting down into the vent, making sure to land as quietly as possible. the cold metal of the air duct pressed against your knees as you crawled toward the room below, spotting larry a few feet away, completely oblivious.
reaching for your utility belt, you pulled out a small stark gadget—a harmless little device designed to make a loud noise when activated. with a quick flick of your wrist, you dropped it through the slats in the vent, watching as it clattered to the floor.
larry’s head snapped toward the sound immediately. His footsteps echoed through the room as he headed toward the noise, flashlight in hand. you teleported yourself back to the roof in time to see Peter lower himself through the glass on a webline, slipping into the room like a shadow.
“good?” you whispered into your comm.
peter’s voice came back soft but smug. "good. I'm heading to the artifact now."
you watched from above as Peter made his way through the room, quiet as ever. he moved between the display cases with ease, his eyes trained on the object in question—a small, unassuming vase, inside of which was the deadly device your dad had carelessly gifted to the museum.
"you think they’d put the dangerous stuff in a more secure spot," peter whispered, now crouched by the display.
"it’s a vase," you whispered back. "nobody thinks vases are dangerous."
peter snorted. "clearly, they’ve never been on a mission with you.”
“clearly, my dad is just as smart, considering he gave a kid a multi-million dollar suit” you teased.
"oh, shut up!" peter shook his head, but you could hear in his voice that he wasn't actually angry or offended at the joke. he carefully removed the vase from its display, switching it out with an identical replica tony had provided. “got it,” he said, holding the real one up to the light.
but just as he turned to leave, larry came back into view. peter froze mid-step, his eyes darting to the closest hiding spot—a decorative column far too narrow to be much help.
“uh, y/n?” peter’s voice was tense. “i think larry’s about to spot me”
“how close are you to the exit?” you asked, already preparing to teleport in if things got messy.
“close enough... but not without being seen” peter muttered. he shifted, trying to move around the column without larry noticing.
you sighed, rolling your eyes. "fine. hold tight."
in an instant, you teleported into the hallway just a few feet behind larry, making just enough noise to catch his attention. he spun around, his flashlight sweeping the area where you had appeared.
peter took the opportunity to slip past, barely making a sound as he darted for the exit.
larry's flashlight landed on you for just a second before you teleported again, this time to the roof, heart racing as you reappeared beside peter.
"that was close," you breathed, watching as larry scratched his head below, completely unaware of what had just happened and probably blaming the hint of your figure on his sleep deprivation.
he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “you realize this was extremely stupid, right?”
you raised an eyebrow, not missing a beat. “what, you worried about me?”
peter shrugged, not quite meeting your eyes. “i mean, if you got caught, who else would pull me out of this mess?”
you gave him a playful shove. "please. i’d just teleport out, and you’d be stuck explaining to larry why you’re playing spider-man in a museum."
he grinned behind his mask, shaking his head. “you’re impossible, you know that?”
“yeah, well, you’re the one who drags me into these missions,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “besides, i saved your butt down there.”
peter held up the vase, the light glinting off it's surface. "i think we're even now. how about we call it a tie?"
you smirked. "tie? not a chance, parker. you owe me big time for this"
peter's eyes crinkled at the edges, the grin behind his mask unmistakable. “all right, all right. i’ll buy you dinner.”
“dinner?” you arched an eyebrow. “is that how you plan to repay me?”
he shrugged, but the mischievous spark in his eyes was impossible to miss. “seems fair, right?”
before you could reply, vision's voice chimed in over your comm. "y/n, peter, congratulations on a successful retrieval. the quinjet is ready for extraction."
peter gave a mock salute. "see? mission accomplished. we’re golden."
you couldn’t help but smile as you rolled your eyes. "fine, but next time, you get to deal with larry."
peter paused for a moment, tilting his head slightly. “you sure? i think larry kind of likes you. he was definitely staring a bit when you teleported in behind him.”
you scoffed, shaking your head as you turned to head for the extraction point. "do you ever stop staring at me?"
peter’s voice was soft but completely sincere as he jogged to catch up beside you. “no, not really.”
you shot him a sideways glance, trying not to let the warmth in his voice get to you. "smooth, parker."
he grinned again, slipping the vase into the protective case tony had provided. “hey, can’t help it. you’re kind of hard to ignore.”
"right," you muttered, suppressing a smile. "let’s just focus on not getting caught next time, yeah?”
“deal,” peter agreed, but his voice held that familiar teasing edge. "but maybe we should stick to flirting only after we’re out of danger.”
you rolled your eyes. “maybe you should stop flirting in near-death situations.”
peter shrugged, a playful glint still in his eye. “what can i say? it keeps things interesting.”
Natasha holds the little baby girl tightly in her arms…
Natasha: oh you are just the best. Yes you’re all mine.
Y/N: uhh Natasha…
Wanda: can Y/N and I have our baby back?
Natasha: no she’s all mine! Beside you’re both young and in love, you can make another!!!
Natasha runs off with the infant in her arms…
Y/N: well I mean we could-
Wanda: I mean she’s right
