#tony and peter are evil

[incorrectcompoundnotes]

Bucky, walking into Tony’s workshop: I think your kid stole my arm-

[Peter and Tony are taking Bucky’s arm apart, giggling excitedly.]

Peter: …and he didn’t even wake up once!

Tony: Good job, kid.

Bucky, sadly: My arm…

[adrixivy]

Imagine the beef between Tom and Anthony is in the mcu.

Sam with a smirk on his face: Yo Steve

Steve: Yeah?

Sam: Can someone breathe in a washing machine while it’s on?

Steve:

Natasha who was relaxing nearby:

Bucky, his arm missing and remembering giving it to someone specifically and said person is nowhere to be seen:

Steve: Where’s Peter.

Cue Peter being tossed around in the washing machine because Sam stole Bucky’s arm from him and bait him into the washing machine and started it. Tony’s mama senses blared and he finds the half the Avengers gathered in one of the laundry rooms in the tower.

[idk-bruh-20]

Something I love about Spider-Man as a character: even if there's no big villain to fight, he's still a hero.

On days when there's no crime at all, he's out helping someone carry their groceries or giving directions to someone who's lost. He doesn't need anything negative to fight; he's just actively trying to make the world a safer, kinder, better place. That's what makes him a hero.

[overdueforarevival]

Peter Parker was so excited to go to university. He had it all planned out, he'd ace his high school exams and MIT would welcome him in, Tony would be proud and smile the whole drive up. He'd spend the first year in student accommodation where he'd meet loads of new people and he'd stay in touch with Ned and MJ, but Peter would meet so many cool new people and he'd have the time of his life, it will be just like the movies.

And now Peter is all moved in, Tony and Aunt May took home the empty boxes,making him promise not to stay away for too long. Peter knew he would go home from time to time, but now he lays in his bed and yearns for yesterday. He yearns for Aunt May and Tony, for his friends and old teachers. He yearns for the streets he knew like the back of his hand. Peter doesn't even know where to go for a carton of milk.

So he lies in this cold bed in an unfamiliar place, filled with unfamiliar faces who seem to know so much more than him. Surely they didn't cry over trying to figure out the new oven or because he wants to be able to call 'good night' down the hall and hear an answer. Ned and MJ moved in a week ago to their respective universities and Peter has hardly heard from them.

Peter just wants to go home. Forget MIT and forget new friends, he doesn't even care about Tony's proud smile anymore, he just wants his old life back. He'd give anything for it

[lanyakea-universe]

Iron Man wasn't a hero, and that's precisely why the Avengers sought so diligently to capture him. But it seemed that the man behind the mask was always a step ahead of them, and their many failures were like good old jokes the villain couldn't get enough of. He was destructive, anarchic and mischievous. Steve knew he had to stop him at all costs before his technology affected more than just their city.

His vision changed in spite of himself when, one day, just as Steve was about to enter a burning building headlong to seek out the last citizens to evacuate, he witnessed the massive Iron Man armor emerge from the flames, holding a small bundle in his arms.

A tiny baby with a soot-stained face, wrapped in a half-burnt blanket, bawling pathetically against the heat and lack of air.

He saw the tiny shifting of the armor as Iron Man cradled the baby, his full attention riveted on this defenseless little being. He saw Iron Man gently place his mettalic fingertip against the baby's lips, so that the toddler could suck on it and soothe himself.

Steve lowered his shield, flabbergasted by the sight. Before his eyes was living proof that his beliefs were wrong: Iron Man was not the monster he'd imagined.

The man in the armor straightened up and turned his head in his direction. "The baby needs help, Cap."

[furry-propagandist]

fic where Tony Stark makes fun of someone for having fucked up teeth (like yellow and broken and shit) and Peter hears him and remembers that before he got his powers he had messed up teeth too cuz they couldn’t afford a dentist.

Like. A really concrete, visceral, reminder of class differences. That Tony wouldn’t have ever thought about before, because he never had too, and he knows that poor people exist and suffer because of it, but he’s so far removed that he doesn’t understand the daily realities of being poor. And Peter used to live it.

There’s a lot to explore with that methinks.

[sketchy-panda]

…. what do you mean tom holland isn’t in avengers doomsday

[loanecore]

who i’m writing for? ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

⟡ i can write / make mood boards / characters ai for:

🧟‍♀️ྀིྀི the walking dead : negan, rick, daryl, marion genet!

⌖ the rookie: tim, john, lucy, angela, celina!

🩹 house md: gregory, foreman, allison, wilson, thirteen, martha masters!

☀︎outer banks : rafe, jj, pope, honestly every “main” character

✄ saw : mark hoffeman

💉the boys: victoria neuman, billy, a-train, kimiko!

𓉸ྀི resident evil : leon, carlos, jill, claire, chris, ethan!

ⴵ marvel: frank castle, bucky, loki, tony, peter parker, natasha, kate<3

the last of us: abby!

☆ celebrities: all of my fav artists and actors! (go here to read about me!) but feel free to still send your request even if their name is not in the list!

if you have any request, tell me!

➜ 𐙚masterlist • my social𖦹°‧

[tobitoooo]

both tony and peter, what if they snapped? look at tom!peter's performance. they deserve a good villain AU fanfiction

I know that spider man/ peter parker is all about overcoming the darkness within. we were graced with bully maguire and angry tom!peter. but please, look at tom holland's acting. don't those vicious eyes deserve their villain fanfiction? let the man eat some people as a treat, c'mon.

[annameowbooks18782]

Started watching the Marvel and here are my thoughts

I got into Marvel because I’m a huge Norse Mythology geek and heard there was something in there about Thor & Loki. Decided to watch it and see how inaccurate it would be, because we all know that movies can never get mythology right. Basically, started for laughs, stayed because it was actually good despite the inaccuracies.

So far I’ve watched the Thor movies, the Avengers movies, and the Loki series. Loki is officially my favourite character, he is such a bitch and I’m here for it.

Here’s the thing.

I saw someone say in a post that they were disappointed that Loki and Peter (Spiderman) never met, because the friendship would be instantaneous. And I agree. But it did get me thinking.

Peter and Loki become friends, to everyone’s surprise. Peter starts off calling him “Mr. Loki”, but drops it almost instantly. Tony is, at first, very displeased, but decided to let it happen for a while. Peter takes Loki around the city, showing him everything, introducing him to meme culture and stuff like that. At some point they start talking about Loki’s age, and come to realise that, in human years, Loki is like 17. Peter is in awe, and tells Tony, who decides to just treat Loki as if he was one of Peter’s regular human friends and not a millennium-old God who tried to take over the world (he was tortured and manipulated in one way or another by Thanos, but I’ll get into that in another post). He ends up driving Loki and Peter around, taking them to the beach, buying them ice cream, taking them to the movies etc. and everyone lives happily ever after.

[ashsfandomcorner]

Just a normal kid by Eye_of_Purgatory

Fandom: Spider-Man, MCU

Ship: Gen

Rating: Mature

Status: Complete

Words: 13,584

Site: AO3

**

Summary:

Peter Parker was always a normal kid, perhaps too skinny or nerdy, but normal all the same. Curly chestnut brown hair, brown eyes, adorable pink skin, nobody looked twice at the skinny white kid from Queens.

**

Sneak Peak:

“FRIDAY, don’t tell me the red marks are what I think they are.” Part of him doesn’t believe that it could be true, he needs confirmation, he needs to calm his subconscious. “Yes Boss, the red marks are bone break marks. Every bone inspected has at least one break. The fault marks indicate that the method of breaking could have been pulling.” “How does that even happen?” He mutters, eyes fixated on the photo of bruising palm marks on the neck that ended a man’s life. Peter walks up behind him to look at the screen as he does, Tony looks back and catches a tiny little quirk of the lips on Peter’s face. He blinks. Its gone.

**

Link:

Just a normal kid by Eye_of_Purgatory

[brekitten]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Peter Parker & Venom Symbiote, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & James "Rhodey" Rhodes Characters: Peter Parker, Venom Symbiote (Marvel), Stephen Strange, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, James "Rhodey" Rhodes Additional Tags: Peter Parker has the Venom Symbiote, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Thanos Dies (Marvel), Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Fix-It, no beta we die like thanos Summary:

They were losing. Obviously.

Thanos had almost all of the stones now. He was going to be able to enact his plans of genocide soon, and Peter somehow doubted that the Earth's Mightiest Heroes were going to be able to stop him from taking the last stone. It was beginning to look pretty hopeless, if Peter was being honest.

Peter should have killed him when he had the chance.

He wasn't going to hesitate this time.

Or,

Thanos dies because who likes canon anyway?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58039768

[rainismdata]

My Attempts for Twitter/X Layout set:

These all are my layout throughout the years (for that account only), probably started from the end of 2021.

[acertifiedwitch]

NO DARLING IM GONNA DRAG EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU DOWN THE ABYSS OF ANGST

Tony Stark and Peter Parker both mourned each other longer than they knew each other and that fact makes me so sick

[roanokezephyr]

Irondad fic idea that I may or may not (probably not) write:

Tony is helping Peter and May sort through their old junk, comes across photo album with a pic of Mary in it.

Tony, sheepishly: “Peter… I think I slept with your mom”

Peter: “you WHAT?”

Tony, very awkward: “sorry kid”

Peter, evil grin: “I’m telling May!”

*cue race to May a few rooms over. Tony slips on the hardwood in his socks, and Peter, being sticky, has no trouble beating him there*

Peter: “MAY MAY GUESS WHAT?”

May: “what is it honey?”

Peter: “TONY SLEPT WITH MY MOM! He’s a walking ur mom joke!”

Tony arrives, out of breath.

May, glaring: “Stark. Explain.”

Tony, somehow even more awkward than before: “biotech convention, 2000. She flirted with me, and I was- god, I was really drunk. I’m sorry, I would have said something if I’d known.”

May, looking between them and doing some quick mental math: “you two need a DNA test”

Peter: “haha as if”

*cut to Peter and Tony looking flabbergasted at the results*

Tony: “what”

Peter: “the”

Tony: “actual”

Peter: “FRICK?“

Tony: “kid, I think this deserves a fuck”

Also Tony: “this gives me the perfect excuse to pay May child support!”

[tinyshyteacup]

Taglist: @jozzieblood @buckysteveloki-me @dragonoftheshadows @plaidconvers @kateawolf13 @keira-kaz2y5 @frog-fans-unite @doilooklikeagiveafrack @verynormalsstuff @nynxtea @iminyourceiling @seventeen-x @mgchaser @y0urgirl @lovely-seb @laughterafter @mysuperlaserpissnumber1fan @irasciblemogwai @svtbpbts @vivalas-vega @chonkybonky @bmyva1entine @6urmom @gullableh @homiesexual-or-homosexual @aoi-targaryen @bitter-semi-sweet @soflegacy @kath-666 @hiireadstuff @nyxthedeity @highhopes1008 @sineminuse @hxsxxk-180294 @wordacadabra @hawkinsavclub1983 @buckingforbuckybarnes @purplefluffycows @raikan624 @avengemepercy @killerwendigo @winterjaysoldier @magnoliamoogle @fandomsearcherforcuntymen @huang-the-geek @joewhs @witchywannabe3263 @iyskgd @ironenemycollective @bumblebeebutter @sizzlingstarlightsky @buckybarnesslutshop @starstruck-cowgirl @angelicdarkn3ss @confused-simp-jpg @hufflepuffsforjoy @nicolebarnes @avatarobsessedgirly @escapismurmom @paige0103 @dollface-xoxo @read-just-cant-stop @sycamoregirl444 @raikan624 @iwritememesnotprophecies @imissbenswolo-blog @biaswreckedbybuckybarnes @paintmekala @knowingnothingnoel @captain-shannon-becker @jainaeatsstars @mm4t @houseofthechaos @chachkid @escapefromrealitylol @when-worlds-end

----------------------------------------------------------

TW: cussing, tension, loki is still villainous, creepy vibes.

Part 3

Touch that Takes - Part 4

The Quinjet hums steadily through the clouds, but inside, the air is thick with tension.

You're unconscious—your body is still, save for the occasional twitch in your fingertips where dark veins pulse faintly beneath the skin.

No one wants to say it, but everyone sees it.

Bucky sits closest. Gloved flesh hand resting lightly over yours. Not gripping. Just there. Anchoring. Protecting. His eyes never leave your face.

Your skin is warmer now, more alive, though your breathing is shallow.

You look almost like you again.

Almost.

Tony paces, his voice is sharp, his expression harder.

“Alright, I think we all need to talk about the sentient Lovecraftian tentacle monster we just stuffed into my Quinjet like it’s a rescue mission and not a containment op.”

Clint exhales, rubbing his temples. “Yeah, not exactly the kind of reunion I thought we were having today.”

Sam leans forward. “She drained Thor, man. You all saw that. Guy looked like his arm aged fifty years in what two seconds.”

Thor sits at the back, shirt torn, arm swathed in a bandage. His tone is low, not angry—just wary. “I could feel it. No Midgardian should be able to do that.”

Tony’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade.

“So. Not to be that guy—except I am that guy—but are we just gonna pretend Little Miss Tentacle Torture isn’t still a threat, what happens when she wakes up ... she tired to eat point break ?”

He’s pacing. Irritated. Sarcastic. Scared in the way only Tony Stark can be—by throwing up verbal flares to mask the panic.

Steve glares. “She’s not a monster, Tony.”

“No? Could’ve fooled me with the whole ‘soul-sucking-girl-from-the-ring’ routine.”

Wanda speaks, low but firm. “That wasn’t natural. What I felt… it wasn’t magic. It was pain. Endless pain.”

“Agreed,” Vision adds, arms crossed behind his back, but his tone lacks judgment—more curiosity than condemnation. “Her energy signature was chaotic."

Peter speaks from the corner, voice small. “She didn’t seem evil. Just… gone. Like she was hollowed out.”

Sam lets out a breath. “We’ve seen people come back from worse.”

“Have we?” Clint mutters. “Have we really?”

Bucky doesn’t look at them. His thumb gently strokes over the pulse point on your wrist. His voice is calm, but his shoulders are tense beneath his jacket.

Everyone turns when Bucky stands.

He does it slowly. Deliberately.

His metal hand flexes once before hanging at his side.

He doesn’t raise his voice—but it lands all the same.

“You’re all talking like she’s an enemy. But when I was nothing but a weapon. She sat next to me. Humming. Brushing my hair like it mattered. Like I mattered.”

He glances down at you, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face.

"She brought me pasta. Didn’t ask if I wanted it. Just said I deserved kindness.”

His eyes flick up—steely, resolute.

“That’s who she is. Not this… thing Hydra forced her to become.”

Steve nods slowly, backing him. “I trust him. And I trust her.”

Tony scoffs but doesn’t argue. His silence says more than words might have.

Thor flexes his left arm, wincing slightly. The black, withered necrosis once creeping up from his wrist has started to fade, revealing gradually restored gold-bronzed skin beneath. New, healthy tissue.

“It heals,” he murmurs, surprised. “Not quickly—but it does.”

Wanda, watching closely, lets out a slow breath.

“Then it’s not true necrosis. Something… drawn out of you. Drained. But not destroyed.”

Tony immediately keys in, grabbing a tablet and typing furiously.

"Okay. So, maybe our creeper-possessed Sunshine doesn’t leave permanent handprints of death. That’s… less apocalyptic than I feared.”

He gestures toward you vaguely.

“Still doesn't mean she shouldn't be locked up.”

Steve frowns from where he stands, arms crossed over his chest. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you.

“We’re not treating her like Loki.”

“She almost killed me,” Thor counters, not unkindly. “She called me delicious, Captain. That’s usually reserved for a feast, not a friend.”

“Something is wrong,” Tony says, voice sharp. “That thing that grabbed Thor wasn’t the receptionist who sings in the kitchen.”

“She didn’t choose this,” Natasha says flatly. “None of us did, really.”

Clint nods. “We’ve all been weapons before. Some of us still are.”

“Your not putting her in a cell” Bucky says, voice low. “You throw her in a box next to Loki, you’re not containing her—you’re condemning her. You think she’ll feel safe like that? Or even human again?”

"You didn’t see what I saw back there,” he continues, stepping forward, one gloved hand rising to point. “She was gone. Or something else had taken hold. But even then… when I said her name—when I said Doll—she hesitated.”

Tony's expression falters. For a second, he does remember. The late-night chats. The quiet laughter.

The woman who gave him as much of his own sass back.

Vision floats closer, serene as always.

“There is merit in both perspectives. Containment may provide safety—but at the risk of further psychological trauma. If the force within her is parasitic or symbiotic, connection—not imprisonment—may be the key.”

The med bay is quiet, lit with a cold, sterile blue glow from the overhead LEDs, the only sounds the steady beeping of a heart monitor and the distant hum of air filtration.

Outside, night has blanketed the upstate facility, and most of the compound is still. But inside this room, the tension is sharp as glass.

You're still unconscious—hooked to an IV, electrodes along your temples and collarbone, a soft blanket drawn up over your waist.

Despite the stillness, your body occasionally twitches—tiny jerks of your fingers, slight shifts beneath the eyelids—echoes of whatever storm is still happening inside.

Bucky sits beside the bed, a chair pulled close. His forearms rest on his knees, posture tense.

He's watching you with hawk-like intensity, but there's a gentle sorrow in his eyes. His metal fingers occasionally twitch—as if aching to reach for you, but unsure if it's safe.

Behind glass, Tony and Bruce hover over a bank of monitors in the lab connected to your room. A series of blood vials—your blood—are lined up in a small cooling tray, each labeled and cross-referenced against dozens of compounds and serum profiles.

“This isn’t a variant of super soldier serum,” Bruce mutters, running a hand over his scalp. “There’s something else. Some kind of mutagenic binder… but it doesn’t behave like any synthetic compound I’ve seen.”

Tony’s arms are crossed, brow furrowed, lips pressed into a grim line.

“You think it’s alien?”

“Possibly. There’s an organic code embedded in her cells—like a language. Like… instructions.”

He clicks something, and a 3D render of your blood appears, strands of DNA interwoven with something dark, foreign, pulsing in unnatural rhythms.

Tony mutters under his breath:

“We need answers before another god gets gift-wrapped with a side of soul-suck.”

The light down here is dim and clinical, buzzing fluorescent panels humming overhead. The walls are reinforced vibranium-polymer, etched with faint sigils from an earlier Asgardian consultation—a patchwork of Earth science and mystic paranoia.

Along the far side of the corridor, a single transparent cell glows faintly blue, suppressing magic and abilities alike.

Inside, Loki lounges like a bored cat draped over velvet, a book open in one hand and a smirk playing across his lips. His eyes lift lazily as Thor enters, his boots heavy against the stone-tiled floor.

“Well, well,” Loki purrs, closing the book. “If it isn’t my ever-loyal brother come to visit the prisoner in his gilded cage.”

Thor doesn’t respond at first. His face is drawn, unusually solemn.

One hand rubs absently at his wrist—still slightly discolored from when your tendrils had latched onto him. The healing magic he'd tapped into restored his skin, but the memory of the decay lingers.

“We need to talk… about Barnes' Lady” Thor says, voice low.

Loki’s eyebrows lift, amused. He swings his legs down, leaning forward like a teacher preparing a lesson.

"Ah. The creature with the black eyes and sweet voice. I remember her. Such a delicate thing. Smelled of ash and heartbreak.”

Thor’s jaw clenches.

"She’s not a creature. She’s our ally. Or she was.”

Loki shrugs one shoulder, eyes glinting with something calculated.

“You saw what she did to you, brother. You’re lucky you’re a god. That kind of draining, it doesn’t leave the soul untouched. She feeds. And I’m telling you this as someone who knows monsters, it's only a matter of time before she’s hungry again.”

“She’s not a monster,” Thor snaps, stepping close to the glass.

“Oh?” Loki tilts his head, lounging back again. “Then tell me, why is she shackled in the medical wing, unconscious and still radiating death like perfume?”

Thor breathes deeply, muscles tense beneath his armor. Then, quietly.

"What are you suggesting?”

Loki grins.

Slow.

Sardonic.

Catlike.

“Feed her.”

Thor stiffens.

“You've gone mad brother.”

“Even a chained beast will lash out if starved,” Loki says silkily. “Give her something to feed on—ethically, of course—before she decides the next source is one of your little midgardian friends.”

The words hang in the air like a curse.

The first sensation is not pain.

It’s silence.

Deep and velvet-dark, the quiet folds around you like a cocoon. Your eyelids twitch, then flutter open, sticking slightly before your lashes release their grip.

The fluorescent lights overhead hum faintly, soft blue shadows pooling beneath the medical equipment.

You don’t remember fainting.

You don’t remember the room.

You don’t remember you.

Sensors beep quietly beside the cot, their rhythmic pulse syncing too slow to match a human heart.

The restraint bands once holding you to the bed are unbuckled now—whether forgotten or intentionally released, you don’t know.

But the absence of tension on your wrists feels wrong. You move a finger, then your hand.

Each motion feels like a puppet’s string being tugged.

Heavy.

A hiss of hydraulic pressure breaks the silence as one of the air vents sighs to life. That’s when your body reacts—instinctual, feral, programmed.

Tendrils slide silently from your hands, dark like shadows peeling free of the walls. You don’t make a sound as you rise—crouching, feral, back arched in defense.

There’s no one else here.

You slink off the cot.

Feet don’t touch the floor.

You move like liquid shadow, tendrils anchoring you upward, curling along cold metal beams and paneling. You slip into the ceiling structure like a spider disappearing into its web.

From the rafters, you hang upside down, tendrils curling around a support beam, body drawn in tight like a folded ribbon of muscle and caution.

The world looks different from up here.

Below, the med bay is still.

Cold.

Sterile.

A dozen IV bags hang motionless. Your own charts sit open and disorganized on a nearby tablet.

Monitors still track your vitals—flickering a few seconds behind reality.

You watch chittering softly to yourself.

Your breathing slows, becomes almost imperceptible. You cling there, still as death, not because you plan to strike—but because you don’t know who you are.

And you don’t trust anyone else to tell you.

Then—footsteps.

Fast ones.

Peter Parker, in a hoodie and sneakers, is sprinting around the corner. Breathless. Darting into the room with a tablet in one hand and a half-eaten granola bar in the other.

The door hisses open—Peter barrels in.

“Mr. Stark! I figured out the—”

He doesn’t finish.

In a blink, he’s gone from the floor—yanked upward like a marionette, legs flailing.

Your tendrils coiled like muscles made of shadow, lifted him high into the ceiling—secure in your grip but clearly watching him.

Peter hangs midair, tablet dangling from one hand, granola bar smushed against his hoodie. Wide-eyed.

“Uh. H-hey! Hi. Hi there,” he breathes nervously. “Okay. Um. I’m not dangerous. Promise. Just Peter. Friendly neighborhood—uh—me.”

You don’t say anything.

You’re in the very center of the medical bay’s ceiling—curled into a half-perch, half-hang, your tendrils wound tightly around both yourself and the struggling teen now hoisted beside you. Your head is tilted at a sharp, unsettling angle as you stare at him.

Unblinking.

Silent.

Your pupils are dilated, tracking his every twitch. You hang there silently, your body relaxed but alert, toes barely brushing the ceiling panel.

Your breathing is slow. Steady. Your hair floats faintly around your face, as though gravity’s grasp on you is optional.

Peter’s voice cracks slightly.

"C-cool ability. You, uh, you have some amazing spatial awareness. Definitely not creepy or terrifying. At all. Haha.”

You blink.

You lean in. Closer to Peter’s face. Nose almost touching his. Your breath is audible now—shaky, inhuman. But your eyes… they’re still just eyes.

Human.

Your eyes scan him—not just visually but bio-energetically. You can feel his heart beating fast.

Adrenaline.

Spiked blood sugar.

Warmth.

Life.

Food.

Your lips part slightly.

At first, just a rasp.

Then a cracked, dry whisper.

"Hungry"

Peter tenses, he doesn’t want to hurt you. Or get hurt.

"Okay. Uh. Do you want—? I mean, I’ve got a—”

You don’t wait.

Your hand snakes out, snatching the granola bar in one fluid motion.

You devour it like a starving thing, crumbs falling in slow motion toward the sterile floor.

Peter watches in stunned silence.

Then your expression shifts—small, almost imperceptible.

Your eyes narrow—not in aggression, but focus. Your body adjusts, muscles easing subtly now that the gnawing ache is a bit quieter.

Then, after a long pause—so long it starts to feel like eternity—your lips part. And from your throat, hoarse and unused.

“No running.”

The tendrils flex—just slightly.

“Dangerous,” you add raspily.

The team arrives in a rush Tony skids to a halt, followed by Steve, Sam, Bruce, Wanda, and—of course—Bucky, who’s already halfway into a sprint.

“Shit” Steve pants, breath short.

“Peter?” Tony blurts. “You alive kid?”

"Yep! Yep. Uh-huh. Totally fine. Not gonna wet myself or anything.”

You glance down.

Your tone, though low, carries easily.

“He smells young.”

A beat of silence.

Peter chimes nervously.

"Y-your not gonna eat me, right?”

You blink slowly, expression almost offended.

"You’re... a child.”

Your tendrils ease. Peter slides down toward the floor, lowered rather than dropped. He lands with a thud, rubbing the back of his neck.

You blink again and lean down from the ceiling, watching Peter like you’re still figuring him out.

You remain overhead—your posture like a guardian creature perched in her nest.

Wanda frowns, looking from you to Peter.

“She didn’t hurt him. She's … protecting him.”

“Because she thinks he’s a kid,” Bruce realizes aloud. “Just like a caretaker.”

There’s a long pause.

Then Bucky steps forward, his voice low but steady.

“Doll,” he calls softly, eyes tilted upward toward you. “He’s just excited. That’s all. No threat.”

Your eyes shift to him.

Bucky steps beneath you, holding out both arms—flesh and metal.

“Come down, Doll” he says. “You’re safe. Let me bring you back.”

Your head tilts— and you blink as if realizing something.

“I’m still hungry.”

The mood shifts again.

Bruce sighs heavily. Sam mutters a quiet curse.

Steve gestures for Peter to leave the room.

Peter bolts, still pale.

Bruce mutters, "that's not good"