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spooky-ghosts · 2 years

Text

Snack Break

You and Peter need a break.

word count: 4952

warnings: lemon. this content is meant for 18+. oral sex (f and m (kinda) receiving), face sitting, unprotected sex (p in v, anal), alien/monster fucking, there are a lot of tentacles in this, folks, and they go everywhere and they do things. this is going to be a poly!relationship with an alien, people, these two crazy kids are gonna love this gooey guy to bits. nicknamed reader. this is post no way home.

a/n: a conversation between @biracialdisaster, @babblydrabbly, and @a-reader-and-a-writer about face-sitting turned into this sin. whatever cosmic deity judges my afterlife forgives me for this because i’m not sorry. this will be an ongoing series. (p.s. thank you to @biracialdisaster for editing this disaster. ily. my sin sister.)

mcu!Peter Parker x Venom!female Reader; Peter Parker x Venom x female!Reader (”Kitty, Kitty-Kat, Kat”)

You meet him at the library of all places. You both are reaching for the same book when you feel a tingle throughout your body, a sense of something unusual thanks to the creature living inside of your body. When you turn to look at him, you see big doe eyes staring at you, chocolate brown and full of curiosity, as if he senses something about you, too.

“Hi,” he says shyly, voice cracking with needless self-doubt and insecurity. He’s cute - really cute - and if he’s going for the same book you are, he’s most likely taking the same class, too, which means that he’s smart. Not that you’re bragging or anything, but you’re well into your core curriculum and your program has a high dropout rate. Hell, you’re surprised you’ve lasted this long.

“Hey,” you return coolly and release your hold. “Go ahead. I can grab the PDF online.”

He shakes his head. “No, please, you take it. I’ll download it.”

When the two of you stand there, neither making a move for the book, you grin. “Or we can both download it and maybe meet up sometime to compare notes?”

That gets a laugh from him and he smiles, bright and open - it’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

You learn that his name is Peter Parker, he’s from New York - Queens, specifically, and he's Spider-Man. It takes you about six weeks of dating to learn the last fact, but he says it’s the quickest he’s told anyone else.

You let him in on your secret, too, introducing him to Venom. They get along immediately. Their fascination with one another is adorable, and as much as Peter likes you, he also likes V.

Between schoolwork and crime fighting, Peter and you don’t have much time for dates. Though, if you ask Venom, the nights that you spend beating up bad guys are dates. But, you make it up by moving in together the next semester. Sure, the relationship seems rushed, but you and Peter have more in common than any two people on the planet, what with your weird superpowers and class schedules. Even your symbiote adjusts to the new change well, though he does have a hard time with the ‘no eating human heads’ rule that you and Peter put into place, but there’s an endless supply of chocolate and chickens to tide him over - at least for now.

When the midterms of the third semester you’ve been together roll around, tensions are high and both of you are wound tight. You find yourself snapping at Peter and V over little things, but Peter is no better. It’s nearly a year since you’ve started dating and the two of you have never argued. There have been disagreements that ended in civil discussions, but nothing came to shouting or heated words.

But it has been days since either of you have had a good night’s sleep or better yet, a proper fuck. Quickies in the shower or the small kitchenette of your tiny apartment do not cut it, not with the insatiable symbiote inside of you or the feral hormones that are pumping through Peter.

“Stop,” you hear from across the room where he sits at his desk.

You look up from your laptop and frown at the back of his head. “Stop what?”

“I can hear you thinking from here. If you want to say something, say it,” he snaps. He’s never spoken to you like that and it doesn’t sit well with V. You can feel the inky black alien slither around inside of you, ready to strike, but you soothe him for now. You know Peter’s stressed, you both are.

“I think we could use a break. Why don’t we watch a movie?”

“I don’t want to watch a movie,” Peter replies. “I have two papers to finish and a crap ton to read. So do you.”

“Then maybe just a break for a snack?”

“I can eat while I study,” he counters.

Your voice drops, “I didn’t mean food.”

He waits for a beat, a million thoughts processing in that single moment, before he turns in his chair to face you. “I guess I can take a little break.”

You stand first, moving from the dining room table to head down the hall towards your shared bedroom. Peter’s footsteps are heard behind you and closing in. You’re not even a foot away from the bed before he’s curled up to you, his chest to your back, his face in your neck, arms wrapped around your waist. Your hands rest atop his. “Hey.”

“Hi,” he murmurs against your skin as you lead the rest of the way towards the bed. “I’m sorry that I was such a jerk.”

“Don’t be. We’ve been through a lot lately.” You wriggle in his hold and turn, cupping his face so that he can see your earnest smile. “Let me help you relax.”

Peter nods weakly and turns his head just enough to kiss the inside of your wrist. “Could you-” he begins before he thickly swallows and sighs.

“Could I, what?” you coax. “Don’t be shy with me, you know me.”

He takes a deep breath and licks his lips, his eyes dart around the room before they land back on you once more. “Could you, like, sit on my face? If you don’t want to, it’s cool. We’ve never done it before, but I really like eating you out and I thought that we could try it. But if you don’t want to, it’s fine, really!”

Your mouth presses against his in a gentle kiss to prevent any further rambling.

When you feel him melt against you, you pull away and smile. “If that’s what you want, we can try it.”

He nods enthusiastically and responds with a breathless, “Yes, please.”

“On the bed,” you instruct, pointing to it with your chin.

His face lights up, eyes crinkling as he smiles at you before he slips away and jumps onto the mattress, landing on his back with a small bounce. He wiggles into the pillows and comforter, getting comfortable as you start to strip out of your clothes. When he notices the first piece come off - his faded high school mathlete shirt - he stops all his fidgeting and watches with parted lips and flushed cheeks.

You had foregone a bra that day, so your chest is now bare, leaving you in tattered cotton shorts over plain cotton panties. “You okay there, Parker?” you ask teasingly, making your way to the bed, dropping the shorts along the way.

He swallows and nods, whimpering in confirmation as his lust-blown eyes take in all of you. Your beauty never fails to take his breath away. “You’re so hot,” he sighs when your knees hit the bed and you slowly make your way up his body.

“I’m pretty sure that’s my line, stud.” You come to rest on his muscled thighs and his hands eagerly attack you, feeling whatever part of your body he can, enjoying your soft skin under his calloused hands.

Underneath you, his gym shorts are already tented in anticipation, and in all of his squirming the plain tee he has bunched up, exposing his sculpted stomach. You lightly run your fingertips along the hills and valleys of his muscles making him wriggle more. “I thought I was going to get a snack?” he asks, trying to hide his pout by licking his lips.

“That eager to get back to Organic Chem?” you tease, but you scoot up his lean torso, bunching up the rest of his shirt as you go. As you hover your clothed sex over his chin, you look down with a sinful smirk. “V wants to know if he can play, too.”

Peter’s eyes grow wide as he processes the question. Venom hasn’t joined in your conquests often, but when he does, it leaves the both of you exhausted but extremely satisfied. “Yeah,” he nods, his voice soft and airy.

“We have missed you, Peter,” comes the deep, syrupy voice from inside of you. Gooey black tendrils of various sizes begin to slither out of you and down to your boyfriend. They caress him tenderly, his face, his arms, down his sides. The touches have Peter writhing and whimpering softly.

“I’ve missed you, too, V,” he admits. His eyes meet yours. For a moment, shame flashes in his dark brown stare, but when you smile down at him, it disappears. Venom is a part of you, Peter has realized that months ago and has shamefully wanted him as much as he’s wanted you. But here and now, he knows that you and V are one, and that wanting one is wanting the other. “Hey, Venom?”

“Yes, Peter?”

“Do you think we can take care of our girl now?” This is the first time he’s addressed you as such, at least in a way that implies he accepts Venom into the fold. Any other time the symbiote has joined, Peter barely said his name. But after months of fighting next to him, of working with him to keep the city safe with you both, Peter must feel comfortable enough to explore this part of your relationship.

“Of course we can, Peter,” Venom coos, extending more limbs to wrap around you, touching you as gingerly as he touched Peter. “Come on, beautiful, sit on Our good boy’s face like he deserves.”

Harmonizing moans ring out into the room from you and Peter, but you do as Venom says. You shuffle forward a bit more as a claw-like hand pushes aside your panties to give your boyfriend what he wants.

A hot puff of air hits your cunt once it’s exposed, Peter’s warm panting breath fanning against your already heated skin. “Can you see how much she’s missed you, Peter? She’s practically dripping onto your face.” Venom continues and you feel Peter nod underneath you. “How does she smell, Peter?”

You look down to see his tongue dart out to wet his lips, his lashes flutter as his eyes roll from the deep inhale he takes from the scent of your sex. “She smells so good, V.”

“Do you want to taste her?” A broad, inky tendril strokes along your folds, collecting your slick and drawing a moan from you. It dips inside of you, breaching shallowly before it slithers to Peter’s lips. Obediently, he opens and takes it in, groaning once your bittersweet tang hits his tongue. He sucks on the tendril, eyes closed, cheeks hollow, working Venom until he can no longer taste you.

“Such a greedy thing,” the symbiote chuckles. “How does she taste?”

Peter looks up at your through his dark lashes, knowing Venom is looking back at him through you and answers him with a husky, “Fucking delicious.”

“Do you want more, Peter?” Your boyfriend nods and scoots further down the bed, grips your thighs tight, trying to pull your cunt down onto his face. However, Venom’s power stills you, keeping you from Peter’s maneuvering, despite the man’s own super strength. “Did you forget your manners?”

His eyes grow wide for a moment before they glaze over and he shakes his head. “Sorry, V.” Peter nuzzles his cheek against your inner thigh, where one tendril has wrapped itself around to keep you steady and open. “Can I please lick her pussy?”

There’s a low rumble that vibrates through you as Venom considers his answer. “What do you think, Kat? Should we let him eat your kitty?”

A shiver runs through you at the question, your skin heating up even though goosebumps breakout across your flesh. Venom knows your answer, he knows everything you want, feels everything you feel, as you do for him. He experiences the world through your eyes, taking in the world as you deliver it, any filth that he spits out is thanks to you.

Peter looks up at you expectantly, his lust-filled stare paired with slightly parted lips that are being teased by one of Venom’s smaller tendrils which brushes along Peter’s plump lower lip.

“Look at him, Kat. He’s being so good, so patient. Isn’t Our Peter beautiful?” A larger tendril brushes a curl from your boyfriend’s face and Peter leans into the touch.

“Yes, he is,” you finally answer, finding your voice, though it’s weak and shaky. “He’s perfect.”

A flush blooms across Peter’s face and down his neck at your words, but he doesn’t break eye contact with you. He holds your thighs tighter and his smile grows, brighter than a thousand suns. “That’s my line,” he tells you.

You return his smile, nowhere near as beautiful as his - how could it be? - but you take his compliment nevertheless. “We should give him a reward for being so good to us, V,” you suggest. There’s a bubble of excitement in you and you’re once again allowed to move, to be placed right where you want to be, right where you need to be.

Peter pulls you down onto his mouth with such a force that you can feel the ache deep within the muscles of your thighs, but with the first swipe of his hot, wet tongue he erases all thoughts and worries from your mind - from all of existence. “That's it, Peter. That feels so good. We love it when you do this.” Venom vocalizes what you can’t and you’re thankful for it.

You’re sat upon Peter’s face, head tossed back, back arched, thick tendrils wrapped around your torso teasing your nipples, with your hands dug deep into the man’s hair below. The tongue runs through your folds before it makes a few playful flicks at your clit. You can feel Peter’s smile against your pussy as you whine in protest. He soothes you over by taking the small nub into his mouth and gently sucking on it. “Yes, Peter, more of that,” Venom purrs for you.

A soft hum comes from your boyfriend as he switches from slow drags of his tongue from your hole to your clit, swirling around the bud before he takes it into his mouth for a small suck before he begins the pattern all over again. There are times where he turns to nibble at your thighs, licks along one of Venom’s tendrils, or sucking on your folds.

But he gets as lost in it as you do, possibly even more so. Each moan that you make is answered back with one of his own, long and drawn out, as if he’s forgotten he’s making any noise at all.

His hands slide from your thighs to your waist, splayed over viny tentacles, where he encourages you to start rolling your hips. When you do, he groans happily, rewarding you with a hard suck to your clit. Together, he and Venom help you set a pace, rocking back and forth across Peter’s face.

The pleasure is overwhelming. Not only do you feel Peter’s mouth licking, sucking, biting your most sensitive area, but his large, warm hands that are sliding across your smooth, sweat slicked skin, clawing and scratching whenever he feels the urge, when he wants to hear you moan.

You feel all of that, but you feel Venom’s as well. You feel when Peter nibbles along one of the sticky tendrils wrapped around your thighs. You feel the hard muscle under smooth skin as Venom slides his claws down Peter’s sculpted body, pushing underneath his shorts and wrapping around his hard, leaking cock.

Peter moans into your cunt, mouth open with his warm breath fanning across your skin as Venom slowly tugs on his length. “How does it feel?” you husk, staring down at him with a ravenous grin.

“Good,” Peter barely manages. His eyes flutter closed and he places a few sloppy kisses to your thighs, to your pussy, but he’s too lost in his own pleasure to focus on yours for now.

“We have been neglecting him,” Venom notes. “It has been too long since We have had Our Peter. Weeks since We have touched him, have tasted him, have let him fuck Us.”

A strangled noise comes from beneath you and Peter shakes his head. “Stuff happens, V. It’s- It’s okay. Just… Please don’t stop.”

A ripple of arousal runs through you and you’re not sure who it’s from, you or Venom - it’s a strong possibility that it’s from both. A shared thought floats in your shared subconscious - a singular, carnal, depraved wish sets fire to your skin and has you dripping down onto the man’s chin below. “Peter,” you call for him breathlessly, “can we try something?”

He trusts you and the symbiote in all aspects of your relationship, whether it be in the superhero sense or at home. It runs so deep that none of you really need to speak anymore to know what the others are thinking or want to do, you put your faith in the others and know that whatever decisions they make take everyone’s feelings into consideration before any actions are taken. However, this is a step forward that you and Venom cannot take without Peter’s full consent.

Much to Peter’s disappointment, Venom’s grip stills on him so that your boyfriend can focus on your conversation. “What is it?” His hands are back on your thighs, running up and down in a soothing manner. He has no intention of letting you go from where you’re still perched near his face.

It amazes you how quickly he can switch modes. One minute he’s your sweet, lovable Peter, next he’s the insatiable, needy boy, begging you not to stop. Right now, Peter’s back, doe-eyed, staring up at you like you’ve hung the moon. “We were wondering if… you’ve ever thought about us, you know, fucking you?”

The question lingers in the air and you think your heart stops while it does. Peter’s expression doesn’t falter, he continues to look up at you as he considers it. Normally, you wouldn’t mind the unreadable expression, but at this moment, you’d give anything to know what was going on in his head. His lips finally part, his tongue darting out to wet them before they pull back into a soft smile. “I want everything with you,” he says. “With the both of you,” he’s quick to add. “That includes, uh, you guys, doing stuff to me, too, right? I haven’t thought a lot about it, but it has crossed my mind. Once or twice.”

Your smile stretches across your face wide enough to make your cheeks hurt. It isn’t because Peter’s letting you do stuff to him, but that he’s fully and truly accepted Venom. “So,” you draw out as a claw once again starts to slide along Peter’s cock at an antagonizing slow pace with a loose grip.

The bed creaks when his hips lift off the bed, trying to get more friction. “Yes,” he whines, digging his nails into your skin, leaving half-moon impressions. “Yes, please,” he says again, remembering his manners for Venom and the grip tightens on him, the speed increases and Peter moans out a ‘thank you’.

You watch as Peter’s eyes close once more, his face scrunches as he’s once again lost in the pleasure that V is giving him. He’s beautiful like this, wound up by pleasure and not by stress, you make a note to take the time for moments like this, no matter what you’ve got going on in your lives, you all need this.

“Kitty-Kat,” Venom purrs aloud so that Peter can hear him, “Open.” A slender, finger-like tendril worms its way up your body from where it was once caressing your breast. It tenderly strokes your jaw, a lover’s touch, and much like Peter did before, you lean into it, your face softening as you smile for him. When the appendage reaches your lips, you obediently part them, allowing Venom to slide into your mouth, along the warm, wet velvet of your tongue. “Such a good girl.”

Peter moans with you. You look down to see his half lidded eyes watching as you take the symbiote into your mouth, eagerly sucking him as you would Peter. “Oh,” he squeaks, “oh fuck.” The tendril grows as it rests outside of your mouth, matching the length and girth of his cock, Venom even goes as far as matching the thick vein that runs along the underside of it. Your mouth once again falls open, wider now, and V pushes its replica past your lips and you groan, eyes rolling back as you take it to the hilt, as you’ve always done with your boyfriend. “Babe, please,” he begs. “I’m gonna-”

“Patience, Peter,” Venom tuts, wrapping himself around the base of the man’s length to stop him from ending things too early. “Kat is going to get Us nice and wet, then We are going to play with you.” He continues to fuck your mouth with the fake cock, Peter watching with wide-eye fascination and needy whimpers.

Thanks to you, he also reaches into the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube to help, but that is done out of sight and in between the sloppy sounds of your blow job. The more you give to Venom, the more you give to yourself, the pleasure that he’s receiving courses through you, a white hot fire of indulgence. It is an intoxicating feeling to have this connection, to both give and receive pleasure while also experiencing both, it’s why Venom is insatiable, wanting to have you (and Peter) all of the time, but life gets in the way, much to his displeasure. But, when he gets to finally experience this carnal behavior with you, with Peter, he wants it to last.

“We now know why you enjoy Us on our knees for you,” Venom chuckles as he makes you gag on the faux-Peter cock. The real Peter’s cock twitches in the symbiote’s grip and the alien lets out another playful laugh. “Will you ever get on your knees for Us?”

A small, weak sound comes from Peter, but there’s no real answer to the question. Neither of you press him for one, though. Venom is happy to leave it lingering in the man’s mind for now. Instead, he pulls out from your mouth, a lewd string of saliva connects the two of you. “Peter?”

Dazed, your boyfriend slowly blinks at you, “Yeah, V?”

“We’re going to try something now,” Venom announces and you begin to shift down the bed.

Peter tries to grab for you, already missing your weight on his chest, but you grin and toss him a playful wink. “Hold on, stud, you’ll like where I’m going.” This time he doesn’t hide his pout, it pulls at the corners of his mouth and makes his babyface look even more boyish. When you come to a stop at his waist and your hand grips his cock, his expression morphs into pure glee, especially when you sink down onto him.

“Ah! Fuck, you’re tight,” he groans as his eyes slam shut, he tosses his head back as his chest heaves. The sheets tangle in his hands and his feet kick around, trying to find purchase on the bed once more. It’s only when you’re fully seated on him and leaning down, peppering kisses onto his face, that he’s able to calm down and refocus. When he opens his eyes, he sees you and your smile, his heart flutters, it’s like the first time he met you all over again. “Hi,” he says quietly.

“Hey,” you reply in turn and squeeze the length inside of you. He groans in response and the both of you set off into a fit of giggles, relaxing in one another’s hold. “Are you sure you want to try this? We don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“Yes, I want to try it,” Peter insists, idly running his fingers up and down your back. “I trust you and I trust Venom. I know you’d never do anything to hurt me.” The open honesty that swims in those cocoa brown eyes shatters everything you were and makes you want to be a better person, to be more like him.

“We want to take care of you,” Venom replies for you, making a physical appearance for the first time that night, by extending a small version of his head from the base of your neck. “You take care of Us. We want to make you happy.” The milky white eyes squint as his exaggerated razor sharp smile takes up most of the small space he allotted himself.

Peter smiles back, reaching up to caress what little bit of Venom’s face he can. “You guys do make me happy. I promise.” His gaze jumps between the two of you as he says, “So, you know, do whatever it is that you want to do.”

Now with his full consent, Venom sinks his head back into you but begins prepping Peter. You start the distraction by the slow grind on his cock, the hypnotic roll of your body up and down that has the both of you moaning within moments.

Behind you, tendrils are uncapping the lube, slicking up one thin appendage and running it along Peter’s opening. He gasps, clenching immediately, bucking up into you, driving deeper within your cunt, which causes you to curse. “Sorry, babe,” he soothes, trying to get himself to relax, to focus on you.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, your body slowing its pace to once again relax him. It does seem to work enough to allow Venom to once again run the tendril between Peter’s cheeks. Your boyfriend squirms still, but it’s not as much and he doesn’t clench up when he’s once again swiped at. “You’re doing good, stud. V’s gonna try and put it in now, okay?”

It takes him a few moments before he answers, but Peter nods slowly. “Will you- Can you kiss me?”

How could you ever deny him? You cup his face between your hands and press your lips against his. As your tongue pushes past his lips, Venom breeches him below, and Peter gasps into your open mouth. You can feel how tight and warm he is, how much V wants to plunge into him, how much he wants to bury deep and pull pleasure from Peter, but you keep him in check, reminding him of the delicacies of male anatomy.

And Peter gives into it, knees bent with his feet planted on the bed, legs spread, fucking up into you just a little deeper as Venom fucks into him.

It’s an odd sensation, the feeling of being inside of Peter as he’s inside of you, but you’re dizzy with pleasure, unable to keep up with the two of them, but it seems that neither of them mind. Sprawled across Peter’s chest, he has his arms wrapped around your lower back as he pistons his hips at a brutal pace, skin slapping against skin.

Venom’s spread out between you, his threads wrapped around each of your bodies, touching and caressing. Being part of you, he knows what you like, how to give you the most pleasure. He knows to wrap your nipples in his grasp and twist, to rub your clit in firm, tight circles, to wrap around your neck and squeeze just enough to get you to see stars.

And the both of you are still exploring Peter, learning his likes and dislikes. You know that he loves having his hair pulled, that he enjoys nails scratching across his skin, or teeth sinking into the meat of him. And you think he’s enjoying this, too, from the harsh, breathy moans in your ear as he continues to rut up into you while Venom massages his prostate. “FUCK, V,” he shouts, forgetting you’re laying limply on top of him like a ragdoll, fucked out of your mind. “Fuck, babe, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he spits out in a mess of hurried words between moans. “God, it feels so good. I’m gonna…”

“Do it for Us, Peter. Show Us how good We make you feel,” Venom purrs, brushing up against the nerves inside of the man once more.

You feel Peter clench around Venom, as he cums, pulling you down onto his cock to spill inside of you, both of your names spilling from his lips in a babbling mantra as he rides his high. Venom makes sure you’re with him, toying with your nub until he feels the familiar coiling in your belly that springs free when you cum with a whimpering cry, unable to move atop Peter even as your vision blacks out for a few seconds and your limbs go temporarily numb.

The both of you lay there, a mess of sweat and sex, until your breathing evens and you remember how to move. “Wow,” Peter breathes, pushing back your hair to see your face.

“Mhm. Best snack in the world, right?” You tilt your head up to see his boyish grin and he leans down to steal a kiss or three.

“It’s pretty good, but I could go for some actual food now.” To back up his statement, a gurgle comes from his stomach. Or yours.

“We could look for bad guys on the way,” Venom suggests excitedly as you roll off of Peter and out of bed.

You roll your eyes and head to the bathroom for a shower, Peter not far behind you. “We’re not eating bad guys for dinner.”

“Not all of them… just the heads.”

“NO,” Peter and you shout in unison as he turns on the water, leaving a pouting Venom inside of you.

a quick tag for: @skvatnavle and @green-socks

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x female reader #peter parker #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x venom!reader #peter parker x venom!female reader #my words

259 notes · View notes

diazevan · 4 years

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6. Please...

Morgan struggles to accept the fact, that Peter is dying, so Strange sends her to see to the one person, who might know the right words to say - her dad.

Warning: Major Character Death, Endgame Complaint

AO3 Link

Morgan’s hair was full of knots, she couldn’t stop tugging at tangled clumps, despite the sting that followed.

That pain was nothing, in comparison to the reality around her.

She’d been left alone with Peter, for the first time since it happened.

He was asleep though, all she could do was watch.

He was surrounded, by every machine possible, tubs and wires were feeding into him, but he lay there, placid and unaware. It didn’t look natural. Peter was Peter, she could see that, but he was trapped in a cocoon of machines that were fighting to keep him alive.

With Morgan’s head, she found it hard not to stare, and take in what she could see.

She didn’t know what everything was called, and frankly, she didn’t care. It was keeping her brother alive, and for her, that was enough.

She concentrated on the heart rate monitor, it made a continuous humming noise, reminding her that Peter was still fighting.

She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes as she lightly pulled on a handful of her hair.

The last four days of her life had gone by in a blur.

She hadn’t showered or eaten much. Her mum had been able to convince her to change clothes, each day, but that was all she could manage.

She couldn’t leave Peter.

He was there for her, whenever she needed him, and it had to be the same, the other way around.

“Mo—” Peter’s call was faint, “Morgan…”

She jerked forward, her eyes flying open, “Petey—”

Peter had only woken up a few times, but the last two, Morgan had been sleeping.

Her breathing quickened, a sharp pain shot up her spine, “Shit—Peter—” She jumped onto her feet, “I’m gonna go get somebody—”

“No—” Peter whined desperately, stretching out his hand, “No, stay here—”

She turned, “But—"

“Please.”

She darted her eyes between the door and his face. She hesitated, before answering, “Okay.”

Peter pointed to the chair, “Sit—” He rolled his head back, taking a moment to breathe.

Morgan collapsed back into the chair and shuffled closer, “Cho—” She choked out, “Cho said you might be ready for surgery….next week if you’re—” If your body doesn’t give up, if you hold on.

He nodded, “Can—can we not talk—about—that?”

“Yeah.” She hung her head, “Sorry.”

“No—” He moved his hand, “Not your fault.”

Morgan scooted over, taking her hand, “Did you hear? Flash—” The corner of her mouth twitched into a smile, “Flash phoned, to ask how you were doing.”

Peter’s face lit up, “He did?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s…” His throat cracked, “That’s nice.”

“And there’s loads of Spider-Man events going on.”

“Have you…” He stuttered, “Have you been?”

“No.” She shook her head, “I don’t wanna leave you.”

Peter offered her a brittle smile, “M—You know—” He trembled, tightening his grip around her hand, to the best of his ability, “What’s happe—"

Morgan pulled away, faltering onto her feet, “Shut up.”

Peter reached out, “M—"

“Everybody keeps telling me—to—understand—” She looked around, at the empty room, and it hit her, she narrowed her eyes, spinning to look at him, “Oh, fuck you.”

“Morg—"

“You set this up.” A sob tore through her, “All of you.”

“I need you—” He let out a harsh breath, “To—listen.”

“No.”

“M—"

“I’m not gonna listen if you’re gonna talk about dying,” She blurted, locking an arm around her front, “You—you heal, you always do, and this time—”

“My—” His face crumbled, “My—body isn’t holding on.”

Morgan threw her hands into the air, “It has to!”

“Morgan.” He scrunched his nose, “I’m scared.” He cried, “I’m really, properly scared.”

She doubled over, “Then don’t go.”

“Hey—hey—” He spoke softly, holding up his hand.

Morgan swayed, “You’re meant to stay.”

“M—"

“Dad left me, and—nothing made sense.” She whimpered, “Then you came, and it started to.” She choked out a sob, “You’re my brother and brothers’ stick around longer than anyone else!”

Peter blinked tears away, “I know—"

“I can’t—” She pressed a hand to her head, “It can’t take you and him, it’s not fair—”

“I—”

“You’ve only been married for a year.” She rubbed her eyes, “You’re gonna have kids, and I’m gonna be the best Aunt in the world—apart from May.”

“Can—can—” He managed a smile, “Would you be okay settling, for the universe’s best sister?”

Morgan stared at him, torn, “Um…” She paced over, taking his hand, “I don’t know.”

“You are—” He held on, tight, “You’ve saved my life, more times than you—know.”

She raised her eyebrows, “I have?”

“When—The shit went down with Beck—I didn’t wanna put up with it, but you—you made me laugh when I thought I’d—never again.” He stumbled over his word, “And you—stopped me from being reckless, when the—when the Hobgoblin took Ned.” He shuddered, “You helped me—save my best friend.”

“I should—” She sat down again, “I should have done something with this—"

“Nor—Norman is not your fault.” He blurted, “He’s not anybody’s—"

Morgan titled her head to her shoulder, “Then why was he your responsibility?”

“That—that gas would have killed a normal person—” His chest rose, up and down, at irregular intervals, as he fought to speak, “—Straight away.”

She sobbed, “It’s killing you.”

“I’m sorry—"

“You saved the city.” She sank, “You deserve—to stay. I want you to stay, Petey. I need you to—"

Peter coaxed, pulling on her hand, “M—”

Her knees connected with the lamented floor with a heavy thump, “Peter—” She let go of his hand and buried her face against the mattress.

Peter buried his trembling hand, in her hair, “I’ve got you—even when I’m gone—I’ve got you.”

Morgan stayed silent, praying that one day – she’d believe him.

“You—” He carried on, “Remember the—Good days, okay? None of this. Just the good.”

He turned her head, to look at him, “Orlando?”

“Yeah.” He smiled, ear-to-ear, “And—when—we accidentally—went to Mars.”

She snickered, leaning into his hand, “Only we can say that.”

“Definitely.”

“And—” Morgan scraped her teeth over her lower lip, “The wedding—”

“It was the best.”

“You—You gonna—” She moved her, laying down to face him, with her legs dangling off the end of the bed, “Are you gonna—”

He nodded, cutting her off, “I’m fighting, kiddo.”

“You don’t have to.” She babbled, even though she didn’t want to say it, “If—if it hurts too much, and you wanna go. You can.” She took his hand again, holding it against her chest, “I’ll look after everybody, I promise.”

“And you’ll let them…” He met her gaze, “Look after you?”

She nodded slowly.

He coughed, “Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Thank you.”

“Dad—” She muttered, “Dad’s gonna look after you - I know he will.”

Morgan wasn’t even sure if she believed in an afterlife, but it was what Peter needed to hear.

“Me too.”

“I—” She closed her eyes, “I love you—”

He turned, pressing their foreheads together, “To the moon and back.”

***

Peter slept through the next day and the one after that.

Morgan waited, for good news, despite knowing she shouldn’t.

Michelle was the one to convince her to take a shower, and it was a definite weight off her shoulders.

After drying her hair and having a couple of hours, to herself, she went to the vending machine, grabbed something to eat, and headed back to Peter’s room.

An invisible pressure pushed against her chest as she turned the corner.

The door was closed.

Cho was hovering outside, with Morgan’s Mum, Rhodey, May, Happy, and Michelle.

She took a cautious step towards them, “What’s going on?”

The group silenced.

Morgan’s Mum walked over, taking her hands, “H—”

“Mum?” Morgan darted her eyes around, “What’s happening?”

Her mum couldn’t speak.

Happy moved over, pressing a hand against Morgan’s shoulder blade, “Pete’s on a ventilator now, squirt.”

“What—” Morgan’s eyes widened, “Why?”

May wiped her eyes, with the back of her hand, “He couldn’t breathe on his own, honey.”

Morgan trembled, gripping onto her mum’s hand with all her might.

“The ventilator is breathing for him,” Cho explained softly, “It keeps his blood oxygenated and it will help protect against organ failure.”

“So…” Morgan lifted her head, “He’s gonna get better after—"

“No, sweetheart.” May took her other hand, “He’s not gonna be able to breathe without it.”

“Ever?”

May nodded.

“Okay...” She let go and stepped back, studying the space, “Where’s Ned?”

Happy motioned back, “He’s gone outside.”

Michelle stepped over, taking Morgan’s low hanging wrist, interlocking their fingers, “Let’s go and find him.”

Morgan couldn’t refuse the plea of her sister-in-law, they got into the elevator, and quickly made their way outside, hand-in-hand.

Ned was curled up on a bench, warming up his hands, by rubbing his palms together.

Michelle’s voice cracked as she called out, “Ned—"

“Sorry, MJ—” He freaked, “I just couldn’t—Look at him like that.”

“I know.”

Michelle sat on his left, and Morgan sat on his right.

“I don’t—” Ned bowed his head, “I don’t think I can be there when it happens—"

“And that’s okay,” Michelle took his hand, “You don’t have to be—"

“I’m—I’m his best friend, I should—"

“You had time…” Morgan spoke, “To say goodbye?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He smiled as tears welled in his eyes, “We—We laughed about—everything crazy.” He shook his head, “It’s just he’s always been there, you know? Since we were little, and I can’t—"

“You’re his ‘Guy In The Chair,’ and it’s okay…” Morgan took his other hand, “Peter loves us, all of us, more than anything, and he wouldn’t—want you to do it if it was gonna hurt too much—"

“Thank you.”

Morgan leaned her head on Ned’s arm, she wished she couldn’t believe the bullshit she kept feeding them, but at least, it worked for them.

Morgan sighed, “This isn’t what I thought—”

Michelle spoke softly, “What?”

“It’s just...when Dad died, one minute he was there, and the next he wasn’t.” Morgan sniffled, “Peter’s—hanging on, to—"

Ned cut in, “It’s like it’s happening in slow motion.”

Michelle agreed, “It is.”

“What—what do we do?” Morgan stammered, “After this?”

“We—” Michelle cleared her throat, trying to remain composed, “Look out for one another, right? Like always?”

Morgan repeated, “Like always.”

It wouldn’t be though, because ‘like always’ would imply that Peter would pull through because he was a part of their life, a part of their forever.

Now, he was fading away, and there was nothing any of them could do.

***

Morgan took a slow walk back towards the entranceway alone, to gather her thoughts.

She was about to go in, when someone caught her attention.

Her mum was sitting in her car, clutching onto the wheel, crying her eyes out.

Morgan felt intrusive, for even watching, but she couldn’t walk away.

She walked over, opened the passenger door, and clambered in.

Her mum was quick to brush a hand across her face, “I’m sorry, baby.”

“It’s okay—"

“No.” Pepper cried, “I should be…I should be strong, for you.”

“You don’t have to be anymore.” Morgan pointed, “This is fucked up, and—and he’s your kid too.”

She looked at her, stunned, “He is.”

“You were so strong, for me, when Dad died.” She wiped her shirt sleeves over her eyes, “We can be—weak together, with this - I think that’s okay.”

Her mum leaned in, brushing Morgan’s hair, out of her eyes, “You’re amazing.”

“So are you,” She praised, “I know how much it hurt you, watching Dad go—"

Her mum shuddered.

“So….so if you don’t have to watch—Peter.” She hugged her spare arm around herself, “Ned can’t either, and I can tell that—you don’t—”

“Honey—"

“I understand, Mum.” Morgan cried, “And so does he.”

Her mum reached over, pressing a kiss against Morgan’s forehead, “Thank you.”

The next morning, came the final goodbyes. Time alone, with Peter – where everyone could say what they needed to.

Morgan’s Mum didn’t want to go inside alone, so Morgan went inside with her.

“Hey, sweetie.” Her mum slowly got onto her knees and leaned over, to comb her fingers through Peter’s curls, “You’ve been so brave.” Her mouth twitched, into a smile, “Not with just this, but with everything.”

Morgan leaned against the wall, hugging her arms around her middle, to keep herself from falling.

“The first day I met you…” Pepper spoke softly, “The whole room lit up.” She twirled her finger around one of Peter’s rogue curls, “I couldn’t believe that a kid, who lost his parents and his uncle, could be so full of…life and joy.”

She sniffled, as tears spilled down her cheeks.

“You are something I never expected…” She admitted, “But’s…it’s like you were destined to fit into our lives…” She slumped, biting down on her lip, to make it through, “Tony started feeling more…alive, with you around – I could see it.” She looked to the ceiling, taking a breath, “You saved him, kiddo.” She nodded, trying to force a smile, “You saved him more times than I can count.” She interlocked her fingers, with Peter’s listless hand, “Even while you were gone…”

Morgan brushed her hand over her cheeks, she couldn’t imagine losing someone, for the second time – especially when that someone was Peter.

“You are the best big brother,” Pepper continued, a permanent waiver present in her voice, “You and Morgan – God, you’re amazing together.”

Morgan rested her hand over her mouth, holding it all back.

“Thank you…” Pepper choked through a sob, “Thank you so much, for being there, for her, when I couldn’t be.” She leaned closer, “I promise—I promise I’m gonna take care of her—with everything I have.”

God, Morgan’s Mum was everything.

She’d fallen so far, but she never let it get to her.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” She pressed a kiss against Peter’s cheek, “You’ve done so well.” She tucked a curl behind his ear and stared, "You-"

Her eyes filled with tears, and it almost like, there was something on the tip of her tongue, that she was finding impossible to say.

She pulled Peter’s hand closer, and breathed out, “You can rest now.” Her face drained of color, leaving behind a harsh grey, “Goodnight, baby.”

She couldn't say the word 'goodbye,' and Morgan understood that.

Her mum turned her face away, quietly retching, under her breath.

Morgan swayed forward but held back.

Her mum moved, taking slow breaths, before speaking again, “We’ll take care of one another.” Pepper promised, “And Tony’s gonna catch you, as soon as you fall, he’ll catch you. Like he always does.”

Morgan made her way over, resting a hand on her mum’s back, “Mum—”

“Thank you.” Her mum got up, onto her feet, “For being here."

“It’s okay.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

Morgan shook her head, “I’ll be fine.”

Her mum kissed her cheek and left, slowly closing the door behind her.

Morgan waited, before spinning around to face a wall, because she couldn’t bear to look at him, “I hate you.” She cracked, throwing an arm out, “I hate you so much—I’ve only—” She clenched her hand into a fist, “I’ve only just started, forgiving Dad for leaving, and now you’re going.”

She dug her nails into her palm and turned, she scanned him, head-to-toe.

“Why—” She pulled at her hair, “—Why did you have to play hero?” She gave a bitter laugh, resting a hand on her hip, “Why couldn’t you be happy—just being Peter?” She inhaled, “Ned’s best friend, MJ’s husband, Mum and Dad’s kid, Happy and Rhodey’s confidant—May’s everything!” Her stomach churched violently, “—My brother.”

She sucked in a sharp breath.

“Aren’t we enough?” She asked, “Why did you and Dad do this?” She pressed a hand to her temple, “The universe doesn’t care, Petey – it’s doesn’t, you died once proving that, why again?!”

She stumbled over, falling to the floor, beside the bed. She balled her fists around the comforter and used her strength to lean upright, on her knees.

“I’m sorry—” She took his hand, “I’m sorry – I don’t get it.” She shrugged, “I can’t do what you do, but you—you are a hero.” She spoke, through intermittent sobs, “You can’t stand by and watch, which makes you better than most people. You saved thousands of lives, and that’s good—” She looked to the ceiling, “I just wish you could stay.”

She brushed her hand through his unruly mop of brown hair – everybody did it when Peter was hurt or sick – it was a mindless activity, and it made sense now, more than ever.

“This is who you are.” Morgan cried, “If you weren’t Spider-Man, I wouldn’t know you, and my life would be incomplete.” She laughed humourlessly, “It’s fucked up, isn’t it? The reason I know you, is the reason you’re gonna die.”

She hugged his hand, close to her chest.

“I’m glad, I had you.” She closed her eyes, “I don’t hate you, Petey. I could never hate you.” She hung on, never wanting to let go, “I love you, and I don’t want you to go.”

She gasped, her hand slipping from his grasp.

A thought crossed her mind, faster than anything, like a lightbulb, had appeared over her head.

“I’ve had an idea.” She leaned forward, kissing Peter’s cheek, “I’m—I’m not giving up on you.” She jumped to her feet, “Not yet.”

She scrambled to her feet, threw the door open, and sprinted down the corridor.

Her family called after her, but she ignored them, hell-bent to get where she needed to be.

***

Morgan didn’t stop running.

Her lungs were screaming at her, and her legs were about ready to give out, but her heart, was pulling her through.

She abandoned her phone, on a wall outside the hospital, so nobody could follow.

She ran, going down back streets, and climbing over garden fences to guarantee that Happy wouldn’t be able to see her, in the car.

Where she was heading, was a good eight-mile walk, but she knew the way, like the back of her hand.

After three hours, of pure determination, she arrived. The sun was setting overhead, and she was ignoring the stares from citizens, who were trying to place who she was. She didn’t look as presentable as usual, with her red-rimmed eyes, mix-matched clothes, and wind-swept hair.

She ignored them as she walked up to the entrance, of the Sanctum Sanctorum – her last resort.

Before she knocked, the door opened, revealing a panicked Strange, “Morgan—” He blurted, dumbfounded, “You’re—Everybody is terrified, where—”

She walked inside, “They called you?”

“They called everybody.” He closed the door, turning to look at her, “The whole team is looking for you.”

She lifted her shoulder in a half shrug, “That’s nice.”

He softened his face, “You should be with Peter.”

“No.” She stood her ground, crossing her arms, “I’m right where I need to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“Can you do something?”

He frowned, “What?”

“With all the power you have, with everything you can do—” She stared at him, right in the eyes, “Can you save him?”

Strange fell back a few paces like she’d punched him, in the face, “Morgan—”

She gritted her teeth, “Yes or no?”

Strange let go of a slow breath, “No.”

Morgan broke, “Why not?”

“Death…is complex…” He explained, “And Peter’s soul has started his journey.”

“Cut the bullshit, Strange.” She cried, “There’s gotta be something you can do! My dad died for this shit, I will not let it take Peter too!”

“Morgan.” He spoke as gently as he could, “There’s nothing I can do.”

“Then what is the point of you?!” She spat, her voice laced with venom, “You…you let my dad live a lie for five years! He died—and you knew he was going to!”

He swallowed a lump in his throat, “I’m sorry—"

“Stop!" She pleaded, "Please, do something. I need him—”

Strange’s eyes flickered, he stepped past her, “Follow me.”

Morgan followed him into an empty room.

“I can’t save your brother, and I’m sorry.” He told her, pushing the door to a close, “If I could, I would.”

She looked around, there was only a small table, at the center of the room, and the world's smallest bookcase, off to the side, “What are you doing?”

Strange crouched, grabbing a book, “I’m sending you somewhere.”

She frowned, “What—"

He flicked through the pages, “I should have let you do this years ago, but I think now is a good—"

She interrupted, “Do what?”

He placed the book open, on the table, “Have you ever heard of the Way Station?”

“No.”

“What about Bardo?”

Morgan hummed, “The state of existence between death and rebirth?”

“Basically, yes.” He nodded, “But the Way Station is a little different. It’s the space between now…and what comes next.”

She raised an eyebrow, “What does come next?”

“No mortal could comprehend it.” He told her, “The Way Station is from what I’ve gathered is the point of origin of the Soul Stone.”

Her limited memories of her Auntie Nat flashed before her eyes, “Oh—”

“And…souls that have come into close contact with the stone…” Strange began, “—Have a connection with the Way Station...”

“Which means?”

“It means your dad’s soul can travel there whenever he needs to—” He picked the book back up, hiding his face, “And so can you, within reason.”

“What—” Her jaw dropped open, “What do you mean?”

“The living can stand in the Way Station, as long as they have a close connection to the soul they are visiting.”

“I can….” She shuddered, “I’m gonna see my dad?”

“Yes.”

“And—you knew I could do this—”

“It’s not something that should be done for the living will dwell on the dead…” He gripped tightly onto the book, his hands shaking, “It upsets the balance, between the realms, so it is not a practice I take lightly.”

“Why…” She shook her head, “Why do I need to see my dad?”

“I’m hoping he’ll know the rights thing to say to you.”

Morgan’s eyes filled with tears, and she nodded. She could never turn down an opportunity to see her dad again, “How does this work?”

Strange placed a hand on her shoulder, moving her aside, “Stand still.”

“Okay.”

“Your body will be here, but your soul will be there, so I’ll watch over you.”

“What will it feel like?”

“You’ll blink and you’ll be there.”

She bit her lip, “Sounds easy.”

“Are you ready?”

She nodded.

“Close your eyes.”

She buried her hands in her pockets, nervously, as she closed her eyes.

Strange said nothing else.

“What—” She paused, “What now?”

“Hello!”

That wasn’t Strange.

Morgan’s eyes flew open.

She was no longer standing within the walls of the Sanctum.

She was somewhere new, enclosed in a welcoming world of orange – the skies stretched on for miles, and the water beneath her feet, was surreal, for it could not touch her.

It felt familiar, and that’s because it was. Her play tent, from when she was little, was sitting a few paces away, and the outlining banks of the lake were behind her. She was home, but not, at the same time.

There was a continuous humming sound, all around her, like white noise.

She spun on her heel, and her breath was stolen.

In the distance, was her dad, watching her with confusion written across his face.

He strode over, a confident skip in his step, his hands in his pockets, “And who—” He grinned, but his face dropped, when he was close enough, “—Morgan?

She cried a laugh, “Hey, Dad—”

“What?” He grabbed her hands, “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t—”

“Strange sent me..” She sniffled, “To talk to you.”

“So—you’re okay, you’re not—"

“I’m fine…” She promised, “I’m alive.”

“Ooo,” He held his head back, “Thank God.”

Morgan took her chance to crash into him and lock her arms, behind his back.

“Oh!” He instinctively locking his arms around her, “Hey—”

“I miss you.” She cried, muffled against his shoulder, “I’m—I’m proud of what you did, but—I wish you were at home, with us.”

“I do too.” He tangled his hand, in her hair, “What’s happening?” He asked, thrown, “Why did Strange send you?”

She leaned back, gripping his hands, “Because he thinks you might know what to say.”

His eyebrows knitted together, “To say?”

“Peter—”

He lightened up, at the mention of Peter, but his expression contorted when he registered the sadness in her tone.

“Peter—” Morgan ducked her head, “He’s dying.”

Her dad stared at her, wide-eyed, lost for words.

“There’s nothing Cho can do. We’ve tried everything. His body—” She hiccupped, “His body’s giving up. He’s on a ventilator and he’s—I’m never gonna see him again or talk to him—” I was the last one who ever spoke to him.

“This isn’t what was meant to happen—” Tony choked out as tears filled his eyes, “You two were always meant to have each other.”

“I know, but I can’t—I can’t save him, Dad.” She held onto his hands, until it hurt, “I’m scared, about what happens next.” She struggled, for air, “We’re letting him go, but things won’t be the same—and—I’m worried that he’ll feel lonely or—"

Her dad pressed a hand to her cheek, “Listen to me, baby; I’m sorry—I don’t have the right words.” His voice cracked, “This isn’t fair, not on any of you, but whatever happens next, I’ve got him, and I’m gonna hold onto him, forever.”

She leaned into his touch, “Yeah?”

“I promise.”

“What…” She struggled through a breath, “What about me?”

She didn’t care if that was selfish, because she needed to get it off her chest.

She was the one being left behind.

Tony titled his head to the side, “You live.”

“How—"

“How old are you?” He asked, unprompted, but she knew he had a point.

“Nineteen.”

Tony nodded, “Are you at college?”

“Juilliard.” She stammered, “I—I play a few instruments. Violin’s my favorite.”

He grinned, “Wow—"

“I was good—at the science stuff, but it wasn’t for me.” She rambled, “I know that Starks—"

“Hey, Stark��s aren’t typecast, kiddo.” He pointed out, “I’m so proud of you. Juilliard? That’s—” He smiled, “That’s fantastic - I’d love to hear you play.”

“I’d love to play for you.” She looked at their hands, realizing how strange this was, being with her dad, “Peter—Peter was gonna take over Stark Industries, but—"

“Don’t worry about that.” He cut her off, “Listen, you’re gonna go on, and be an amazing musician. It’s not gonna be easy, without Peter, but you’re—” He hesitated, for a second, “I know that he is as proud as you, as I am.”

Morgan knew that too, Peter never stopped saying it.

“Maybe you’ll get married, maybe you won’t, the same thing with having kids. Doesn’t matter what you choose.” He told her, “You will do whatever it is, that makes you ‘you.’”

Strange was right, Morgan’s Dad had all the right words.

“You will laugh, have good days and bad days. They’ll be days when you miss us, and you’re crushed underneath the weight of it.” He was talking, from experience, that was obvious, “There’ll be others, when you hold your head up high and remember the good moments, without fearing the bad. And when—” He hesitated, “—When your time comes, when you’re old and grey, we’ll be here, waiting for you.”

“That sounds nice,” Morgan couldn’t help, but smile, “You’re right, life will go on.” She sniffled, “It’s just—I wish for once, the universe would care.”

“The universe doesn’t care because it’s bigger than any of us.” He explained, “It doesn’t matter though. Because there are people who care, people, we love, and they’re way more important than the universe. They are your universe, and that makes them special.”

“Yeah.” She looked up, at a new sky – seeing a world, not many mortals would, “Peter can let go, I—I want him too if he’s hurting, he shouldn’t fight it.”

She was starting to agree with her earlier words.

If—if it hurts too much, and you wanna go. You can go.

“He deserves peace, like you.” She wept, “It’s just I’m never gonna be ready.”

“Nobody ever is.” He brushed a tear, off her cheeks, with the side of his thumb, “And it might not feel like it, but you’ll be okay, it won’t be the same okay as before, but you’ll find a way—And he’ll be here, with me—"

“I’m glad—"

Tony held out his arms, “Come here.”

She sank into his hold, closing her eyes as she leaned her forehead against his collarbone, “I love you.”

He kissed her cheek, “I love you, three-thousand.”

Suddenly, her dad’s hold disappeared, and she stumbled ahead a few paces.

She opened her eyes.

She was back, in the Sanctum.

Her mum’s worried voice greeted her, “Morgan?”

She turned, “Mum?” He stumbled over, “I—I saw Dad.” She smiled unsurely, “He was—he was okay—he’s not scared—and he’s waiting, for Peter.”

Pepper smiled, teary eyes, “That’s amazing, baby.”

Morgan noticed, in the corner of her eyes, that Strange was trying his best to hide his tears, but they weren’t lost on her.

Peter touched many lives, including his.

“Peter won’t be alone…” Morgan said, “And neither will we.”

Her mum caught her wrist and tugged her into an embrace.

***

After the ventilator was removed, they knew it wouldn’t be long, until Peter left them.

They didn’t speak much, there was nothing to say. There were glances and knowing looks – a bond, so strong, that words weren’t needed to understand.

Morgan’s Mum, Ned, and Rhodey stayed out of the room, together.

She understood why.

Ned couldn’t bear to watch his best friend die.

Rhodey watched her dad die, and it changed him. For years, he could barely look at her or Peter, in the eye. It was almost like, he didn’t see them. He couldn’t watch his nephew drift away, with an unhappy ending.

Morgan’s Mum was the same, she’d said that seeing somebody die changes a person, and she couldn’t stomach it again.

Also, the most fucked up part was, when Morgan’s Dad died – three people were by his side – one of them was Peter. The kid he fought, to bring back, was dying, at thirty-one, before her mum, and before her uncle – an ending, neither of them wanted.

Michelle was curled up, against Peter’s left side, with her forehead tucked against his arm.

The beds, in the infirmary, were bigger than the usual ones, apparently, Morgan’s Dad wanted them to be like that, it had something to do with, a certain Spider-Kid, and his need for cuddles when he got hurt on patrol.

Morgan was on the opposite side, hugging Peter’s arm with her own.

Happy was pacing, beside the window – standing guard, like always.

May was sitting at the end of the bed, with her hand locked around Peter’s. Morgan hadn’t wanted to lie down originally, scared she was snatching her aunt’s goodbye away from her, but May assured her, that Peter would want her close.

It was almost sunrise, when Peter’s breathing drastically changed, a sign that it was almost over.

It wasn’t like in the movies.

Morgan planted a kiss on his cheek, and met Michelle’s gaze, they managed to offer one another, a weak smile.

Morgan curled back up, closing her eyes.

When Peter’s chest stopped rising, and the machine behind Morgan, started beeping – it was almost too simple– it was like any other moment, but Peter was gone.

Morgan pushed Peter’s rogue curl behind his ear and leaned in, to whisper, “Thank you for everything.”

They sat in silence, for a while.

Morgan moved slowly when a familiar noise starting ringing in her eyes.

It was the same sound, from the Way Station.

She sat up, to listen out.

May leaned over, placing a hand on her shoulder, Morgan rested her hand on top but didn’t turn back, to look.

The noise got louder.

Morgan cautiously got onto her feet, keeping her hand in May’s grasp, “I’m gonna—”

“It’s okay, honey.” May’s voice was hoarse, barely audible, “It’s okay—”

She probably thought Morgan wanted to be with her mum, but she couldn’t be yet, she had to follow the noise, “Thank you.”

Morgan circled out, into the corridor, the sound got louder and louder.

She came to a halt, when she realized, that there were no people around.

A blinding orange light, appeared, in front of her.

She stepped forward, curious.

She was pulled inside, back to the Way Station – only, this time, she was on the edge – like she was on the outside, looking in. She was sure, this wasn’t meant to be happening, but she refused to question it.

On the horizon, Peter appeared – once again, full of life.

Her dad emerged, “Kid?”

Peter’s knees went weak, “Tony?”

Something warm spread across Morgan’s chest, she blinked away tears as she smiled.

The duo sprinted, at top speed, and crashed into one another.

Morgan gasped, watching on like it was a dream.

Her dad kissed Peter’s cheek and held on, protectively, like he was planning to never let go.

Morgan felt a hand on her shoulder, she spun, and was back, in the Headquarters again – surrounded by the buzz, of life.

Her mum studied her, “Sweetheart?”

Morgan sank into her arms.

She didn’t know if her dad was right, and that, in the end, everything would turn out okay. She probably wouldn’t be able to answer that, for years. There was one thing she knew, for certain, and that was, she was safe and secure, in her mum’s arms – the centre of her universe.

#whumptober2020 #no.6 #please...#marvel #marvel fanfiction #ironsiblings #irondad #irondad fanfiction #iron siblings #morgan stark #peter parker #tony stark #michelle jones #pepper potts #may parker #stephen strange

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existing-on-cloral · 4 years

Text

Brooklyn's Night Terrors

A Steve Rogers X Reader Fanfiction

Chapter Four: Hold Fast

Steve visits his doctor in the hospital. Bucky comes back from recon mission with some new evidence.

Wanda sobbed into your shoulder as you stroked her hair. "I couldn't have... It's all my fault."

"It's not your fault, Wanda," you assured her, hugging her tightly. "I wish I could have met him. But now we have to make sure that he didn't die in vain. That his sacrifice wasn't for nothing."

She wiped away her tears. "I understand. I know we have to keep fighting, I just... I think I need some time."

You stood, offering her a tissue from the dispenser on her new dresser. "Yeah. We do."

As you turned to leave, ready to go and meet the other initiates to the Avengers, a voice rang out in your head."

"време."

"What did you say?" you asked Wanda. But the young woman was frozen, mouth open, breathing heavily. You made your way towards her, but the voice came back, stopping you cold.

" Поништавање. Буллет. Дете."

Each word felt like a bullet entering your body and you doubled over in pain. Wanda began to scream, a long, drawn out wail of pure agony. The voice only continued, offering neither of you solace.

" Осамнаест. Планета. Срце."

Wanda's scream stopped, but her mouth continued to move. You watched in horror as she began reciting what you assumed was an English translation.

"Time, undoing, bullet, child, eighteen, planet, heart!" she choked out, gripping her chest and struggling for breath.

"Wanda, fight it!" you cried, recognizing the sequence of words as something like what Hydra had used to brainwash Bucky. Bucky...

You couldn't stop the voice, or Wanda's reply.

" Сестра."

"Sister!"

"Дванаест."

"Twelve!"

" Хидра."

With a gasp, she spoke the final word. "Hydra."

Wanda collapsed, shivering, curled up in a ball on the floor.

"Wanda, come back to me," you implored, struggling to her side and grasping her hand.

She shook her head. "They are not for me," she muttered.

A loud bang signaled the door being thrown open. "They are for me," another voice said.

You looked up just in time to see Pietro Maximoff send a bullet into his own sister's head.

"Breathe, doll, it was just a nightmare."

Your eyes flew open, scanning the room around you. It was white, with no decorations except some bland curtains covering the window. Steve's face swam into view as you slowly rose into consciousness.

"Steve?" you got out, struggling to sit up. "I... I thought..." Your breath failed you, and you fell into a fit of coughing.

Steve pushed you back down. "Lay back and just breathe. You got a lot of smoke in your lungs. You're lucky Peter got you out when he did." He offered you a cup of water, tilting your head up so you could drink.

You sipped the water, taking careful breaths to try and combat the smoke. "This is why I don't use cigarettes," you got out, giving Steve a weak smile.

"They used to prescribe those for my asthma." He managed to crack a smile too. "Huge wake-up call when I got to this century and they showed me all the different types of cancer I could have gotten."

"No shit?" you laughed, which caused you to cough again. This time, Steve helped you sit up so you could breathe properly. You watched him carefully, trying to discern if he was angry at you for, you know, almost dying and whatnot. Finally, you asked, "What happened?"

Steve sighed, sitting back in his chair. "You inhaled too much smoke from the car and passed out. Peter got you back here in time for the doctors to get most of the stuff out of your lungs. Buck and I ran to try and catch Maximoff and find where the Reaper's been hiding, but..." He shook his head. "I think there's a reason the Reaper wanted him. He got away far too quickly for us."

You coughed again, reaching for the water cup. Taking a couple of sips, you asked, "Sam?" but feared you already knew the answer.

His slight smile dropped and he reached for your hand. "I'm sorry. We looked everywhere in the vicinity, but..."

"We have to find him," you croaked. "I don't want him to die."

Steve nodded. "I know we do." He fell silent, playing with the hem of your bed sheets. After a minute, he looked up. "If you don't mind me asking, what was your nightmare about?"

You winced. "I... I don't know how to answer that..." You trailed off, wishing that you could just transfer your nightmare to him. It might be a little hard to explain...

"Wanda," you finally said. "Can you bring Wanda here, please?"

Steve nodded. "Of course." He stood and headed for the door. It shut behind him and you let out a sigh of relief. Getting questioned by the Captain and hearing the news, on top of your nightmare... It felt horrible. Was this the daily life of an Avenger?

The door opened again and you jumped. Steve couldn't have found Wanda that quickly. It wasn't Steve coming back, however.

"Hey," Peter said, pushing the door open all the way. "Can I come in?"

"Of course." You scooted over so he could sit on the mattress. Peter closed the door and shuffled inside, looking for all the world like a lost puppy dog pawing at the door of a house in the rain. "Hey, thanks for saving my life, by the way."

Peter sat down, staring at his hands. "You're welcome. I... I'm glad that you made it."

Poor Peter. The kid had been through so much and he was only... sixteen? Seventeen? However old he was, his eyes seemed to say that he was a hundred years old. "Peter, did you see anything after I passed out?"

"Yes!" Talking about clues he had found would be a good distraction for him. You leaned forward, locking your eyes on his. "When Quicksilver ran off, he went..." Peter closed his eyes, fingers moving as if tracing over his memories. "Southwest from where we were. Steve... I mean Mr. Rogers... He has our coordinates. If I went back there I could... It's kinda my Peter tingle... I mean my Spidey sense."

You grinned. "That's perfect, Peter! See, we're getting closer and closer every day."

Peter beamed, throwing his arms around you and squeezing. "Thank you... I just want to be of some help. Even if the world believes that Spider-Man is a bad guy, I'm glad you don't."

"Of course I don't, Peter. The director and Steve and I all know better. You're a good person, Peter." You smiled down at him, squeezing him tighter.

Peter froze, slowly backing away from you. "I... I..."

"What? Did I say something? I'm sorry," you quickly said. You took Peter's hand and squeezed it.

"You're fine, it's just... That's what he said to me. Right before he died." Peter looked away, pulling his hand back and folding them in his lap.

The door opened again, stopping you from responding and/or jumping out the window so you could go to the afterlife and kick Quentin Beck's ass. Steve entered the room, Wanda trailing behind him. "Hi, Peter," he greeted, ruffling Peter's hair. "You know of Miss Maximoff, right?"

Peter nodded, wiping tears from his eyes. "Hi." He held out a hand timidly. Wanda took it and her eyes almost immediately watered too.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized. "I can't help it." She touched Peter's forehead and he immediately relaxed, a smile crossing his face.

"That looks like a lot of fun," he said. "When was that?"

Wanda returned his smile, taking away her hand. "When we were young. We got a dog and Pietro loved to play with it."

"Wanda." Steve gestured to you. "She was asking for you."

"Alright." Wanda walked around the bed and sat down. "What do you need?"

You put on your best puppy dog eyes and said, "I had a nightmare and I thought it would be easier to show Steve instead of tell him."

Wanda immediately took your hand. "Call up the nightmare and I will transfer it to Steve." She reached out and squeezed Steve's wrist, pulling him a little closer. "Whenever you are ready."

Taking a deep breath, you recalled the nightmare. How it had started, what had happened. By the end of it, Wanda was struggling to keep her concentration and Steve's forehead was glistening from sweat. Still, they both held on tightly. When it was over, Wanda wrapped her arms around you.

"That's horrifying. I'm so sorry," she apologized. Steve crossed to you and laid a heavy hand on your head.

"Are you okay?" he asked, quieting his voice. You nodded, but with the nightmare now fresh in your head, you felt yourself leaning towards crying.

Steve sat in the chair and fell silent, the four of you letting everything sink in. Silence descended on you as you tried to think of what to say and how to say it without sobbing.

Fortunately, you were saved by a knock. A slightly beat-up Bucky appeared at the door, clutching a book in his hands. "We got a problem."

Steve jumped to his feet. "What's up, Bucky?"

Bucky strode inside, holding up the. "This is a book I found at the scene of the car crash. Maximoff dropped it in his haste to get away. From what I can gather, it's a copy of the original, possibly written by the Reaper."

"This looks like Hydra's Winter Soldier instruction manual," Steve said, taking the book and flipping through it. "It looks like a regular notebook."

Wanda took the book and opened it to a random page. "This is my brother's handwriting," she said. "I would agree that this is a copy."

"So what's it say?" Peter piped up.

Bucky took the book back, flipping to the very back. "I found this list of words." He began reading, and Steve swallowed nervously.

"Those are the words in her nightmare," he said, gesturing to you.

Bucky glanced at you, then at Steve. "A nightmare?"

Wanda grabbed it, reading over the list. "The exact same. This means..."

"The Blue Reaper has figured out how to utilize the techniques Hydra used to turn me into... him." Bucky spit out the last word, the idea sharp on his tongue.

"So she created another Winter Soldier?" Peter asked, scooting over to look over Wanda's shoulder. "That's messed up."

Steve bit his lip. "As messed up as it is, Peter, it's likely what happened. And it means that the Blue Reaper likely wants to reassemble the Winter Soldiers, including Bucky, and finish what Hydra started."

"She doesn't even need the time machine," you added, turning back another page. "These are Bucky's words."

Slowly, Bucky held his hand out for the notebook. "I didn't see that." He scanned the page and his shoulders tensed. Steve moved to grip his best friend's shoulder, but Bucky moved away. "These are my words. The exact same."

Steve winced. You grabbed Wanda's arm and slowly moved to sit on your feet. "She wasn't going for Sam when he and I saw her."

Bucky nodded. "She was going for you. She knew that Steve and Sam and I would've gone after you."

"But now she has Sam, and we don't have a choice but to go rescue him," Steve muttered. He turned to Bucky. "I can't ask you to fight for me again."

"You don't have to," Bucky said, finally reaching out for Steve. "I'm going with you."

Steve shook his head. "She's trying to get you, Buck. Not happening."

"But-"

"As your leader and Captain, that's an order. You will stay at the compound and look after..." Steve trailed off, his eyes flicking to you. "Look after her. Make sure the Reaper doesn't try to take her as well."

Bucky nodded. "And Maximoff?"

Peter shakily stood and set a hand on Wanda's shoulder. "There should be a word in there, kinda like a full stop button. If I remember from history class, Bucky's was 'Sputnik'. Find the one for Pietro."

"And if you cannot find it or it doesn't work," Wanda added hesitantly, "shoot with an aim to incapacitate, not kill."

You gritted your teeth. Of course, now that there was a chance for her to see Pietro again, she would hesitate when facing him down.

"I think Pietro will head here," Bucky added. "He probably didn't know that you picked up Peter, so he was trying to shoot you down. The timing is off for him to be after Peter."

Wanda stood. "Then I will stay here. I believe that I can get through to my brother, as you did for Bucky," she said, nodding to Steve.

Bucky nodded. "Then that's-"

"I'll go with Captain Rogers," Peter interrupted, his shoulders tensing. "Don't argue, you know I can fight."

Steve laid a hand on Peter's shoulder. "If I tell you to get the hell out, you'll do so, understand? That's my one condition."

Peter nodded.

Steve turned back to you. "Just a recon mission, then if Pietro doesn't show up here, Bucky and Peter and I will go for Sam. If he does, I'll call in Agent Carter and see if I can contact anyone else, and we go for Sam anyway, but Bucky stays behind."

Wanda and Bucky both nodded once in agreement. "Let's go grab some shitty hospital food," Bucky suggested to Wanda.

"Suit up, everyone," Steve ordered, and he and Peter left.

Wanda touched your shoulder. "Get some rest. Bucky and I will patrol the area."

You bit your lip, fear slowly incapacitating your limbs. If the Reaper was after you... how could your friends stop her? Still, you let the two leave, laying back and closing your eyes halfway. The door shut behind the four superheroes. Just before you drifted off, the door opened again and Steve hurried back to your side. He leaned down and whispered, "Everything's going to be okay," then planted a quick kiss on your forehead, hand touching your neck. As he left, your eyes closed and you slipped into dreamland.

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader

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delicrieux · 5 years

Text

hiraeth | t.s.

HALLOWEEN WRITING CHALLENGE!🎃 day 4, word(s): apple orchard

pairing: tony stark x daughter!reader, some peter parker x reader

fandom: marvel, infinity war & endgame

request: so I've loved that stark!daughter fic you published long ago, can you do a part two? maybe she had disappeared in the snap so he has to tell her that Nat died and she meets Morgan for the first time? (I remember that she thinks "do it for Morgan" while using her powers but maybe it's because when they reunited on the battlefield Tony told her she has a sister idk) this is really confusing even tho I have a quite specific idea, so feel free to ignore it :)

warnings: angst (but fluffy end!)

words: 745

author’s note: read the original HERE! this is from this post and i will try to do all 30 of them!:) six, hiraeth ( a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past ).

feedback is always appreciated xoxo

masterlist | buy me coffee☕

There was something. You don’t know what that something was, but there was something in that nothingness, some sort of longing, but to where and to when you had no idea. There was nothing after the Snap; you were nothing. But you felt something, something that wasn’t emptiness, no, it was much more painful than that. Perhaps it was because of your power, because you could heal anyone and yourself and perhaps that’s why in eternity of nothing lingered something. It was torture.

The world returned suddenly and life bled back into you with a quick breath and you could move again and the empty space of the afterlife was sucked out like water down the drain to reveal the world you left. It was too much at first, those first few breaths, first few touches of the ground beneath you and you nearly broke before you could live again. Your limbs ached and your eyes were sore from tears and lips littered with your own teeth marks and that pain was familiar and somehow comforting and all of that was better than nothing or that something in vertigo.

You heard your name being called and you could not believe you could hear again. A blurry image of a shaky Peter Parker greeted your vision and before long you were engulfed into a tight embrace and you realised you didn’t want to ever let go. But you needed to. Memories rushed back, each more hurtful than the last and the word ‘danger’ flashed in your mind with sirens. The battle was drawing to an end and they needed you: your family, your friends, the millions snapped back.

We need to go, Peter told shakily. He grabbed your hand and pulled you onto your feet. The rest of the battle was a blur of magic and pain. You had only really realised this was not some desperate dream only when Thanos himself slowly turned to dust and silence fell over the bloodied battlefield.

You had met her, Morgan, that little angel when you returned home. It was not your home, not yet, and you knew you should feel welcomed and at peace but that something within you still lingered in your gut, still haunted you like some sort of terrible ghost. She smiled when she saw you, grinned from ear to ear, and with a seeming war cry rushed to you and tackled you into a hug. She was so warm and she kept repeating your name and saying “Mommy said you’d be back! She said you’d be back! Where did you go? Why did you take so long?” and you couldn’t answer those questions even if you wanted to so instead you patted her head and gave her a small smile and she returned it tenfold.

There is an apple orchard close to home and you visit it often. And if dad wants to find you, this is the first spot he’d go.

“You know…I didn’t think this life was for me, too, at first.” You look away from the trees and find him in his warmest jacket standing just a ways away. He motions with his hands, “The country…the woods…No pollutions. Takes some time getting used to.” He approaches nonchalantly, but you can tell there is something weighing on his mind, “After the…” he falls silent for a moment, “Well, you know. After that me and Pepper…we couldn’t…stay in the city. Everything just…We needed a fresh start is what I’m saying.”

“I get it. You needed to get away. To start a new life. “ You give him a faint smile and nod, “Morgan’s a sweet girl. I like her.”

“Well that’s good because the only thing she ever talks about now is you.” He grins, “You have a fan.”

“But I don’t think I can stay.” You admit, “It’s just…Too much. I miss the noise. I miss my old life in New York. I’m not fit for retirement.”

“Was that a jab at me? That was a jab at me, wasn’t it? God you get your smarts from your mother.”

You laugh. He opens his arms for a hug, “Visit often?”

“Of course.” You promise, accepting his embrace.

“You sure there isn’t any other reason you want back to New York?”

“No, why?”

“Really? No certain insect hero…Rhymes with Neter Darker.”

“Seriously? No!”

“Sounded like a ‘yes’ to me.”

“Dad…”

“He tries anything and I’m using bug spray, got it?”

“Oh my god…”

hope you liked it!

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littleteatimestories · 5 years

Text

Prompt: @ourwritingprompts’s #163 “I’m an emotional wreck.” “It’s okay, you’re a cute emotional wreck.” Pairing: With Peter Quill/Star-Lord As requested by @nighthood13

A/N: Request fulfilled! 😆 I know some of you think I can’t fulfill a request for the life of me, but I’m trying bit by bit. I actually have 3 requests in my list right now. Since I’m done with this one, I’m still accepting 8 more. For more info on the prompt request, go to this 🔖

I hope this is to your liking. I tried to make Quill as cute as he can be, but I feel like I have better plans for him. 😅 Anyway, enjoy!

It just felt like yesterday. At that time, there was an emotion inside of you that you felt so weak. Next, you felt your heart palpitating and your brain malfunctioning. You then noticed that your hands were turning into dust and the last thing you saw was Peter looking at you terrifyingly. He probably ran over to you because you didn’t know what happened afterwards.

Darkness… That was what you sensed on that moment. You finally knew how death was and you became scared to hell. Once everything went back to normal after five years, it never was the same for you. You frequently had nightmares. The worst part was hearing about Gamora not coming back ever because, according to Quill, Thanos killed her for the soul stone. That devastated you even more since the green-skinned female was one of your closest friends. You could say that you two were like sisters. You always saw her in your dreams, mostly being ceased of her life or saying her goodbyes. You wanted to believe that those weren’t true, but the truth was already set in front of you. All you could do was weep.

A few lives were traded just to bring humanity back. You heard Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff were one of those ‘heroes’. You didn’t know what happened to Captain America himself because no one would tell you.

In your case, Sam Wilson was the one who helped you in treating your so-called PTSD. Peter assisted you along the way as he tried to ask The Falcon of your condition. Sam tried, but Peter couldn’t help in bursting in anger just because he didn’t understand a word that was explained to him. Maybe the stress was also affecting him since Gamora was gone.

After six months of treatment, you were back to your old self. You were always so tough and a risk-taker. You finally accepted that Gamora was truly gone and realized that the only thing you can do was to honor her sacrifice and move forward.

You and Peter were actually helping one another in the coping process. You felt closer to him. You found him adorable at one point when he sensed that you had a panic attack. He was really worried and you assured him that you were fine. He didn’t buy that and still kept fretting over you.

The Guardians were back in doing space exploration, plus with an additional new ‘recruit’. Thor decided to tag along and so, there wasn’t a time that Peter and he would argue of who has the better leadership skills.

“Look, Thor. I only decided to have you in my ship because I felt very pity,” Peter debated.

“Listen here, Star-whatever-you-call-yourself, I may not be worthy of being the ruler of Asgard, but I am worthy of being a good leader. That’s one of the reasons why Mjölnir and Stormbreaker chose me,” the God of Thunder countered.

Peter laughed sarcastically. “Yeah, right. So that means the Milano chose me to captain her. My ship chose me so I’m worthy to be her captain.”

Thor squinted. “Your ship is a female?”

Peter groaned loudly. “You know what, just don’t do anything.”

“You don’t tell me what to do.”

Peter just rolled his eyes and walked to your area where you were tinkering with some stuff.

“He’s really persistent,” you remarked.

“And he’s annoying the hell out of me. Ever since he came, it’s never quiet here.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Well, he’s at least entertaining.”

“I don’t get his jokes. Only Rocket laughs with him.”

You quietly giggled and continued on fixing your weapons.

“You know, I’m proud of you,” Peter said.

You looked at him quizzically. He continued on, “We’ve been through a lot with that war with Thanos. Dying just like that… You should try imagining what Rocket had been through. Five years without us… He survived that.”

“Yeah, I know… But, it was still different being able to die. All I felt was just pure darkness.”

“I guess that afterlife thing wasn’t true at all, huh?” Peter attempted to make a joke.

You just smiled on that one.

The ship shook excessively. You and Peter were alerted at once. You two went to the Flight Deck to see what was going on.

“What just happened?” Peter asked, casting his eyes at the space beyond.

“We’ve got company!” Rocket announced as another collision came into contact with the Milano.

“Enemy ships?!” you confirmed.

“Nu-uh, sweet cheeks! Asteroids!”

“Great! I leave you to drive the ship and we already have asteroids flying all over us!” Peter chided as he perched himself on the co-captain’s seat.

“Oh wow! I didn’t know this became all my fault!” Rocket retorted.

“I am Groot! (Look out!)” Teenaged Groot pointed forward as a large asteroid was barreling directly at them.

Rocket turned the ship too late as the big chunk of rock hit the left wing. A red alert instantly flashed, declaring for immediate landing.

“Nearest planet, anyone?!” Peter yelled.

You quickly checked the computer at the third seat. “Lithios! Sending in the coordinates!”

“Prepare for a hard landing, losers!” Rocket declared.

***

You loudly gasped and started scrambling up on your feet. You started to sprint to who-knows-where. Everything you see were all different shades of purple and it was making your head hurt more. You felt like you were seeing things. Right now, you think you just saw Gamora standing at the distance. Your heart was starting to pulsate and you were wheezing aggressively. You finally gave into the anxiety attack as you laid on the ground, curling and sobbing like a baby.

Someone was calling out to you, but you were in deaf ears. It was like going back to that void again.

“(Y/n)! Hey, (Y/n)! I’m here!” Peter was trying to get your attention. You weren’t budging, still staring straightforward and crying nonstop. He held your shoulders tightly and gently as he moved you to face him. He focused on you. “Hey, you’re okay, alright? You’re okay. Everything’s fine.”

You wept noisily and embraced him. He returned it and soothed you.

***

“I’m sorry,” you apologized.

“For what?” Peter questioned.

You sighed heavily. “That I’m an emotional wreck.”

You finally met up with the rest of the Guardians. You were all sitting on the ground with a purple fire burning at the center. Apparently, Lithios is a crystal mining planet, though, the crystals here were the purple-colored ones. Rocket said Lithios crystals were worth 100,000 credits per piece; the bigger the size, the higher the price. Thor, though, went to find his own area.

“So what?” Peter seemed disinterested with your answer.

You narrowed your brows. “Don’t you get it? I looked like I was falling apart back there. I could have gotten myself killed if this planet was a dangerous one. I could’ve let the team down just because I could’ve had a tragic way to die.”

“But you are still here and you did not die,” Drax commented as he sipped on a gooey-looking soup.

You fought the urge not to roll your eyes. “Yes, Drax, I am still alive and kicking. I was only sharing a scenario.”

Drax’s eyelids drooped. “You are not kicking. You are sitting right there.”

You finally bowled your eyes whilst exhaled a breath as Peter chuckled and spoke, “But, really, it’s okay. You’re a cute emotional wreck, anyway.”

All of the Guardians including yourself stared at him. Peter froze and flickered his eyes from one member to the other and vice versa.

“What?” he queried.

“I think I need to clean my ears. Did I hear ya right, Star-munch?” Rocket opined as he tried to clean his one ear with his pinky paw finger.

Mantis, who was sitting beside Peter, held his back hand and felt a strange euphoria coursing through her antenna. The Terran immediately swatted his hand away from her.

“You are in love,” Mantis concluded.

Peter laughed dryly. “Okay, that’s just funny. First of all, I am not.”

“Is it hard to deny that you are in love with (Y/n)?” Drax went straight to the point.

Peter gaped at him. “I am not, okay? (Y/n)’s like a sister to me, that’s it.”

“Right,” Rocket drawled, signifying that he didn’t believe him.

Peter huffed and attempted to change the topic. “Anyway, we should be worrying about the ship. Rocket, when can we expect full functionality of the Milano?”

Rocket brushed his shoulders up and down. “I don’t know. It could take weeks or, worst, months if we don’t have the materials we need. Just look at the ship. We have a broken left wing and I’m not sure if I can fix that easily.”

“Find a way. We can’t stay here for too long.”

Rocket grunted. “I’ll do what I can. But you do have a point. We can’t stay here long.”

And their conversation prolonged. Groot peered at you and gave a small smile. “I am Groot. (He likes you.)”

You returned the upward curve on your lips. “I hope so. I really do hope so.” You gazed at the Star-Lord longingly.

#peter quill x reader #star-lord x reader #Guardians of the Galaxy #marvel

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theboogeyman-blog1 · 7 years

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REALLY LONG CHARACTER SURVEY. RULES. repost , don’t reblog! tag 10! good luck! TAGGED. stolen from @bloodbaptised TAGGING. @formother and those who really want to attempt to flesh out their muses!!

BASICS.

FULL NAME : Michael Audrey Myers. NICKNAME : Michael, Shape, Mikey. AGE : Twenty-one in his main verse. BIRTHDAY : October 19, 1957. ETHNIC GROUP : Caucasian. NATIONALITY : American. LANGUAGE / S : Understands English. SEXUAL ORIENTATION : Asexual with an inclination towards females. ROMANTIC ORIENTATION : Aromantic. RELATIONSHIP STATUS : Relationship-less. CLASS : Middle class until containment in Smith’s Grove Sanitarium, technically in poverty upon escape. HOME TOWN / AREA : Haddonfield, Illinois. CURRENT HOME : Haddonfield, Illinois. PROFESSION : N/A. Serial murderer and escaped mental patient.

PHYSICAL.

HAIR : Brown and overgrown, slightly curly at the ends. It was dirty blonde when he was a boy. EYES : Like large, shining obsidian stones on his pale and empty face. Full lashes. NOSE : Average length and width, slightly turns up at the tip. Almost button-like. FACE : Surprisingly youthful, nearly angelic. Slightly round, lack of wrinkles or laugh lines from lack of expression. LIPS : Near thin. Very gentle curves on the Cupid’s Bow. Pale pink. COMPLEXION : Pale, unblemished and unmarked. BLEMISHES : Nothing visible. SCARS : Verse dependent. No scars in his main verse but covered in burns after the explosion at the hospital. TATTOOS : Verse dependent. None in main verse, but in the Cult verse he wears the symbol of thorn on the inside of his wrist. HEIGHT : 6'0″. WEIGHT : 168 lbs. BUILD : Average, but mildly lanky. Possesses much more strength than what meets the eye. FEATURES : Pale skin and smooth, unblemished features. Blank expression and deep black eyes that stare. ALLERGIES : N/A. USUAL HAIR STYLE : Very much unkempt. Tangled and unbrushed. How it falls is how he wears it. USUAL FACE LOOK : Smooth and unfettered as a blanket of fresh snow or a blank sheet of paper. His eyes don’t seem to focus. They seem to stare past you and far into the future---or far into the past. USUAL CLOTHING : Blue mechanic’s coveralls and work boots. On his head is a white mask that shields his face, expressionless and intimidating. He does not like to remove it.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR / S : None. The closest thing that arouses anything remotely like fear in Michael is the exposure of his face. He is not the evil entity he tries so hard to be when his youthful, cute face prevents him from being as scary. Plus, that mask has become an integral part of his personal identity. Without it he can function (assuming that he himself made the choice to remove it), but when it’s taken from him he experiences a sensation akin to panic. ASPIRATION / S : To recreate again and again the events that preceded his incarceration: the murder of family members reminiscent of his murder of his elder sister, Judith. POSITIVE TRAITS : Tenacious, resourceful, clever (in ways) NEGATIVE TRAITS : Remorseless, withdrawn, deceitful, bears grudges, murderous, blase, cunning, dangerous, manipulative, obsessive, unemotional, MBTI : ISTP-A: The Virtuoso ZODIAC : Libra. TEMPERAMENT : Choleric. SOUL TYPE / S : Hunter. ANIMALS : Hunts much like a cougar does. VICE HABIT / S : Murder, holding grudges. FAITH : The Myers family went to church every Sunday but Michael never believed in God. No faith. GHOSTS ? : Does not want to think about it. AFTERLIFE ? : Does not care to think about it. REINCARNATION ? : No. ALIENS ? : Does not care. POLITICAL ALIGNMENT : None. ECONOMIC PREFERENCE : Technically he is in poverty. SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION : No. EDUCATION LEVEL : Kindergarten.

FAMILY.

FATHER : Peter Myers. MOTHER : Edith Myers. SIBLINGS : Judith Margaret Myers (elder), Cynthia Myers (renamed Laurie Strode, younger) EXTENDED FAMILY : Jamie Lloyd (niece), Steven Lloyd (son/grandnephew), John Tate (nephew) NAME MEANING / S : Michael: “Who is like God?”/”He who is closest to God.” Audrey: Drawn from “noble” and “strength.” HISTORICAL CONNECTION ? : Michael’s name is EXTREMELY biblical.

FAVOURITES.

BOOK : None. MOVIE : None. 5 SONGS : He has none. However, these songs remind me of him. ( x x ) DEITY : Verse dependent. Forced to worship the Entity in Dead by Daylight. HOLIDAY : Halloween, the only time when he is truly active. MONTH : October. SEASON : Autumn. PLACE : His home on Lampkin Lane in Haddonfield, Illinois. WEATHER : Cloud cover darkening the night sky. Cool, crisp air that just nips at the skin. SOUND : The radio from outside a window, carefree prattle of teenagers who are unaware of his presence, their anxious calling when they hear a sound when they think they’re alone, their shrieks when he plunges his knife into their young, supple flesh, the snapping of bones, the splatter of blood. SCENT / S : Gentle wafts of floral shampoo that trail his obsession. TASTE / S : The metallic hint of blood in his mouth, candy. FEEL / S : Control, the charge of following someone without their knowing, their desperate grasps at him as he seizes them. ANIMAL / S : Has no favorite animal. NUMBER : Seventeen--the age of both of his sisters when he makes attempts on both of their lives. COLOUR : Red for the blood that he spills, black for the shadows that provide him shelter.

EXTRA.

TALENTS : Hunting, he is very adept at following his prey without alerting their attention until he wishes for himself to be noticed. Inducing fear into the hearts of those surrounding him. Misleading those who associate themselves with him. Lacking any kind of humanity or decency that would sway his warpath. BAD AT : Communicating, as he cannot and/or will not say a word to a single soul. Taking care of himself, as he cannot manage to feed himself regularly or to bathe himself or tend to his own injuries. TURN ONS : Fear of him. Watching, watching, watching. TURN OFFS : Intimacy. HOBBIES : Drawing pictures in crayon, writing his elder sister’s name on them. TROPES : Face of an Angel; Mind of a Demon, Creepy Child, Humanoid Abomination, Malevolent Masked Man, Silent Antagonist, The Stoic, Super Strength, The Voiceless. AESTHETIC TAGS : Knives, gore, masks, graveyards, urban neighborhoods, Halloween, trick or treat, jack-o-lanterns. GPOY QUOTES : ".........”

FC INFO.

MAIN FC / S : I haven’t done extensive research on faceclaims for adult Michael because I see no situation where he would remove his mask for anyone so I will stick to his faceclaim in the first movie for now-- Tony Moran. ALT FC / S : Tyler Mane. OLDER FC / S : Don Shanks. YOUNGER FC / S : Noah Wiseman. VOICE CLAIM / S : None. GENDERBENT FC / S : None.

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 : if you could write your character your way in their own movie , what would it be called , what style would it be filmed in , and what would it be about ? A1 : Well, Michael already has several movies made all about him but there are a lot of things that I’d like to see in the one coming out next year. First of all, I would love it if they would scratch the ideas of Michael being tied to a cult and being the puppet of a cult because I believe that Michael’s actions are completely of his own free will. I would also love to see some of Michael’s time in Smith’s Grove and Dr. Loomis’s struggle to bring Michael out of himself. I would love to see the little boy before the event on Halloween 1963 and how he acted around his family. I want to see Michael stalking and murdering people that have no connection to him whatsoever. I believe it would be much scarier that way. Q2 : what would their soundtrack / score sound like ? A2 : I would keep elements of the original Halloween soundtrack because they’ve come to resemble Michael’s screen presence so much. I’d like to thicken the orchestration. Q3 : why did you start writing this character ? A3 : I’ve been obsessed with Dead by Daylight since its release and I was kind of like ????? when they announced that they were going to release Michael as a playable character in the game bc honestly it just reads as jealousy that Friday the 13th is already doing so much better than it, and oh my GOD. I honestly hated Michael so much when he was first released into the game because he is ridiculous to play against. It is so fucking hard to get away from him. Like my hatred for him was unholy. But then I started to watch the movies on a whim and??? I loved him?? My murder sON. Q4 : what first attracted you to this character ? A4: I really love the aesthetic of the old slasher movies and I love horror movies in general. I told myself that I was going to see all of the movies of all the original slashers and Michael was the one that I picked up first. What I really found attractive about his character at first is how inhuman he is and how terrifying the situation is. He has complete control. And plus, I’m a sucker for a scary man in a mask. Q5 : describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse. A5 : I hate that it’s implied in the sixth movie that he raped his teenage niece. Michael is a god awful living organism and I know that he isn’t morally above doing something like that, but I really can’t see him doing something like that. I can’t see him developing any kind of substantial arousal about anyone on that level. Q6 : what do you have in common with your muse ? A6 : I suppose that we’re both reserved. Beyond this, we don’t really have anything in common. Q7 : how does your muse feel about you ? A7 : Michael would fucking stab me in a heartbeat lmaO. I would be trying to mother him and he would be like NOPE. Not having it. He doesn’t feel anything about me and he doesn’t feel anything about anyone tbh, but I don’t think he’d appreciate my attempts to take care of him. Q8 : what characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ? A8 : Laurie Strode, Jamie Lloyd, Dr. Loomis, Judith Myers, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, Pennywise the Clown, Jason Voorhees, Nea Karlsson, Trapper, Hillbilly, Meg Thomas, Dwight Fairfield, the Entity. Q9 : what gives you inspiration to write your muse ? A9 : Watching the Halloween movies, listening to dark, ambient music, rock music, or looking at aesthetic pictures of suburban neighborhoods at night and Halloween. Q10 : how long did this take you to complete ? A10 : SO LONG. Like a month omf

#🔪 | ᴘᴀᴛɪᴇɴᴛ ɴᴏᴛᴇs ( about. )#🔪 | ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴠɪʟ ɪs ɢᴏɴᴇ ( ooc. )#[ tfw u have to describe michael's face in detail ]#[ and all you can think is ]#[ pretty boy pretty boy pretty boy ]

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