I ❤️ Leo Valdez

Haymitch Abernathy:

The 52nd Hunger Games

Bucky Barnes:

Talk it Out

Peter Parker:

Aftermath of a Mission

Percy Jackson:

Sleepless in Cabin 3

Just Friends?

Long week

Leo Valdez:

The Engine Room Scene

Rafe Cameron:

Bed Chem masterlist

Nobody gets me Masterlist

Summer Lovin masterlist

Bob Floyd:

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

synopsis: Peter Parker and Y/n Stark were best friends. Inseparable. That was, before she had every memory of him completely erased… but if anyone could figure it out, it would be a Stark.

warnings: 18+, Brand New Day spoilers, a little steamy, they’re super in love, mention of blood, college parties/drinking, fighting, grief, suggestive at times, memory loss, smoking, drunkenness, cursing, mentions of health conditions, headaches, angsttt

word count: 29k (total) Part 1

A complete dead end. 

I had been back at my apartment in Cambridge for nearly an entire week, and made absolutely no progress whatsoever on figuring out what my newfound memories meant, or how they could possibly have been connected to why I lost them in the first place.

I also hadn’t had a single headache episode, or new memory since that night at Spider-Man’s apartment— so I really was completely stuck. 

It was syllabus week for the spring semester, so I had spent a significant amount of my time searching for any records and/or data on two people: May and Ben Parker. 

May Parker had lived until 60 years old, and was buried close to her late husband: Ben F. Parker. They both died in freak accidents, but had no traceable children or living family members. 

I had initially met May Parker— who I had eventually called Aunt May— through Happy when he had a brief relationship with her. My memories of her were not all clear— many of them blurred with other old memories— but I did remember that she was a lovely woman who was prone to giving excellent advice. She was exactly who I needed after my father passed.

What I couldn’t figure out was why that strange boy had Ben Parker’s wallet, why he had no identification, and how on earth he was connected to the older couple. He had claimed that he was bringing flowers to his deceased aunt, but there was no trace of him in either May or Ben’s family lines.

I had hacked into the cameras in the corner store that I had run into the boy in, then I proceeded to run about fifty-nine facial recognition tests. They all came up empty. This boy was a complete mystery. 

I had scheduled a call with Yelena for next week to see if she had any additional intel about this unidentifiable boy, or what Ben and May Parker had to do with my memories— but for now I decided to just be a normal college kid. 

The past few months had started to make me feel like I was constantly on a wild goose chase that nobody else was a part of, and I was missing out on far too many things for the people that I did remember.

Ned had finished his Spidey Tracker app, Mj had gotten asked out by a really cute guy, and I had like 6 missed calls from Happy.

It was a Thursday night, and nobody had class the next day (or they were skipping: sylly week tradition), so we were heading to some party across campus that Mj’s new boy had invited us to.

I had promised Ned that I wouldn’t make him be a third wheel for the night, and obviously that I would celebrate his major accomplishment with him. So when eight o’clock came around, I shut my laptop and opened a bottle of wine. 

My friends would be over soon, so I quickly changed into a mini dress, a pair of beat up Converse, and picked out a warm coat to brave the long walk across campus in the frigid weather. 

I had just turned off my hair curler when I heard footsteps storming into my apartment.

“You were in the Spider-Man’s apartment and you didn’t tell me?” Ned practically shouted as he stormed into the doorway of my bedroom. I could hear Mj laughing from the kitchen.

I shrugged, taking a sip from my glass of wine, “It didn’t come up.” 

“It didn’t—“ Ned started, mouth hanging open, “You were in the Spider-Man’s apartment!”

“I’ve hardly seen you lately!” I defended, “And you’ve been so focused on your app, I didn’t want to take away from that!” 

“Okay,” Ned said, nodding in temporary acceptance, “Fair, but tell me everything! Did you tell him about me?” 

I walked past him, heading out into the kitchen and greeting Mj. 

“I told him that we are all very grateful to him for saving us,” I said, holding up my opened bottle of wine, “Want a glass?” 

“Yes please,” Ned said, sitting on a stool at my kitchen counter, “Did you find out anything? Like how old he might be? Or if he went to school with us?” 

I shook my head, “Nothing.” 

That wasn’t completely the truth, of course. I did make some assumptions about his age, and judging by the fact that he knew every name that I mentioned from our high school, it seemed likely that he was a Midtown student at some point. But that just wasn’t my business to share. 

“Dang it,” Ned sighed, accepting the glass of wine that I had poured for him. 

“Well,” Mj said, walking over to Ned and patting him on the back, “Now you have your Spidey Tracker app, so I’m sure you’ll find more clues soon.” 

“Definitely,” I agreed, “Now let’s go have some fun.” 

—

The walk across campus had numbed my feet to the point where they almost hurt, but luckily I was tipsy enough that that was the only part of my body that felt like Steve before he was thawed. There was a thin dusting of snow on the ground, but it was mostly frozen— so walking across campus meant watching where we stepped to make sure one of us didn’t fall face first onto a sheet of ice.

A light buzz covered my senses— and this time, it was pleasant. I laughed harder, spoke louder, and felt the warmth in my chest. 

“So let me get this straight,” Mj laughed loudly as we approached the street of our destination, “He had just saved you from armed criminals, and you were just like ‘I’m out’?” 

I bent forward, clutching my stomach and laughing at how ridiculous it sounded coming from someone else, “I just wanted to go home,” I said, catching my breath, “It was cold, and I was tired.” 

“You tried to dip on the Spider-Man,” Ned said, clutching Mj’s arm as he chuckled. 

“He was so confused,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes.

As we approached the house of the party, we could hear the loud music bumping from almost halfway down the block. People were mingling on the lawn with red cups in their hands. More were scattered in the backyard playing games with long tables. 

“Whose house did you say this was?” Ned asked Mj as we walked up to the front door.

“I’m not actually sure,” she said, “Paul just said it was one of his friends.” 

I grinned, “This is my kind of party.” 

“Isn’t every party your kind of party?” Ned asked, twisting the doorknob.

“You know me so well, Neddy.” 

The inside was even more crowded than the outside. There were purple, blue, and green lights in every room— even the kitchen. Someone had set up a dj stand in the living room, turning it into a makeshift dance floor. 

Ned and I locked eyes and smirked. 

The kitchen had empty cups, full kegs, and liquor bottles scattered on all of the counters. I recognized some people from my classes, but most of them appeared to be a from different crowd than we normally hung out with. 

Migrating to the kitchen, we searched for an unopened bottle to share. 

“Hey!,” a male voice called from the door of the kitchen, “What’s up Stark?” 

I nodded at the boy, but didn’t recognize him. He had short, blonde hair and wore a baggy t-shirt and jeans— like a skater boy from the 90’s.

“Never thought I’d see you at one of my parties,” he said, approaching me.

“Oh,” I said, pretending to sound interested, “This is your house?” 

“Yeah,” he said. His voice even sounded like a 90’s skater boy with a fake California accent. “Isn’t it great?” 

“Totally,” I said, smiling tightly, “Remind me how I know you?” I asked.

“Freshman year seminar,” he said, holding out a fist for me to bump, “I totally cheated off of you all year, thanks for that.” 

“Ah,” I nodded, narrowing my eyes at the boy. “Glad I could help.” 

He threw an arm around my shoulders and looked to Ned and Mj, “Are these your friends?” 

“Yeah,” I said, “This is Ned and Mj, we were just looking for an unopened bottle.” 

“Totally!” He said, removing his arm from my shoulders and digging through a cabinet behind my head. He pulled out a brand new bottle of top shelf vodka— the good stuff— and placed it in my hands. 

“Thanks,” I said, smirking at Ned and Mj, “Looks like we’re all set.” 

“Hey, but don’t share that with anyone else,” he said, looking between the three of us, “I’m only giving you that because I owe you for my freshman year GPA.” 

I mock saluted him, “Got it. Mixers?” 

He pointed to the refrigerator, “Bottom shelf, help yourself.” 

“Nice,” Mj murmured as the boy left the room.

“Who’s in line next for keg stand?” We heard him shout, sounding like he was headed outside.

The variety of mixers that were stocked in the refrigerator were underwhelming, so we all settled with various vodka-soda combinations. 

“To Ned,” I raised my red cup in the air toward my friend, “My super-cool-genius best friend, and your amazing Spidey Tracker app.” 

“To Ned,” Mj repeated, clicking her plastic cup to mine and taking a sip.

Ned smiled brightly, “Aw, thanks guys.” 

“Holy shit,” Mj said, a look of disgust covering her features, “This is strong.” 

“It can’t be that bad,” Ned said, taking a sip of his own drink and immediately coughing, “Nevermind. It’s bad. It’s so bad.” 

I took a sip of my own, feeling the burn through my esophagus and eventually in my stomach. They were right. It wasstrong. 

Shortly after we left the kitchen, Mj found Paul, and Ned and I found the dance floor. I was feeling warm, and my drink was going fast. I could tell that Ned was almost done with his, because he was doing absolutely diabolical moves to ‘party 4 u’ by Charli xcx.

“Should we find Mj?” I shouted over the music, taking another sip.

“Yeah!” He shouted back, “And I need another drink!” He said, showing me his empty cup. 

Mj and Paul were in the kitchen, chatting with who I assumed to be Paul’s friends when we found them. 

Paul seemed nice enough. He had been to a couple of parties with us last semester, and it didn’t shock me when he asked Mj out. He seemed totally smitten for her since the first time that we met him. 

“You guys having fun?” He asked Ned and myself as we went to refill our drinks. 

“So much fun,” Ned said, “Thanks for the invite.” 

“Glad you could make it,” he said. 

I inched toward Mj, refilling her cup for her and quietly asking, “All good?” 

She nodded, smiling at the sight of Paul talking to our friend, “All good. You good?” 

“All good,” I nodded, “He seems good for you.” 

It was hard to tell with the multicolored lighting, but for a moment it almost looked like Mj was blushing. 

“He’s cool,” she said, “He’s got cute friends too.” 

I rolled my eyes, “Oh, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Mj said, “That one is totally crushing on you,” she pointed to a tall boy with dark hair and dark features who was standing near the sink. He waved when Mj pointed. 

“I have no idea who that is,” I said, “How could he possibly have a crush on me?” 

“Perks of being y/n Stark, I guess,” she said, nudging my elbow with hers, “Wanna go talk to him?” 

I shook my head, taking a large sip of my drink, “I’m good over here, for now.” 

Tuning back into Ned and Paul’s conversation, I heard Paul ask Ned about his new app. Mj must have brought it up.

“See?” Ned said tilting his phone toward Paul, “Spider-Man was last seen in… hang on, it takes a second to load.” 

“This is so cool,” Paul said to Mj.

“What can I say?” Mj replied, “I’ve got pretty cool friends. 

“Last seen in Boston?” Ned exclaimed, “That can’t be right. Hang on.” 

“What would Spider-Man be doing in Boston?” Mj asked, raising her eye brows.

Ned shook his head, quickly clicking buttons on his phone. “It must be a glitch, I’m still fine-tuning the system.” 

“Hm,” Mj said, turning her attention to Paul. “I was just telling y/n here that she should go talk to Will.” 

“Mj,” I warned.

“You should totally go talk to Will,” Paul affirmed, “He’s a great guy, and he has had a crush on you since you first got to campus.” 

I forced a smile, taking another gulp of my drink, “I’ll think about it.” 

I did think about it. After another drink, we all ended up in the backyard, observing as Mj and Paul were actively losing a game of beer pong. Mj said these games were for brainless morons (which I had to agree with her on), but clearly she liked Paul enough to entertain it.

“So, you’re from New York?” Will asked, standing on my right and nursing a beer.

“Yeah,” I nodded, “born and raised.”

“So what made you want to come here?” He asked. 

He was cute. Definitely cute. But I wasn’t really looking for a relationship. Plus, it sounded like he may have been a little bit of a fan, which was never a good idea. 

However, with the warmth in my system and my inhibitions lowered, the idea of kissing some random boy didn’t totally disgust me. It wasn’t like I ever had to talk to him again. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d kissed a boy.

“Mostly my dad,” I replied, turning to face him, “He went here… but also them,” I smiled in Mj and Ned’s direction, “I wouldn’t let them leave me behind.” 

He smiled down at me, “It’s cool how close you all are.” 

“Where are you from?” I asked, though I normally despised small talk.

“Here,” he said, “born and raised.” 

“Seriously?” I asked, “You grew up here.” 

He nodded, “Yep. My parents went to school here, too. Then decided to settle down just about fifteen minutes north.” 

“That’s boring,” I said without thinking. “Sorry.” 

Laughing, he said, “That’s okay, I know it’s nothing compared to New York.” 

“Yeah, it’s really not,” I said, realizing that my words were flowing a little bit too freely, “New York is way better.” 

“Oh yeah?” He asked, taking a step closer, “What makes New York so great?” 

“Everything,” I replied. 

“Such as?” He followed up, taking another step closer. I could feel his breath on my face. I didn’t step away.

“We have the Avengers. And Spider-Man.” I said, smiling wide. 

“Ah,” he said, “Maybe I’ll have to come visit you some time.” 

“Hm. Maybe,” I said, looking down at my empty cup. “I’m going to get another drink.” 

He stared at me.

“You want to come?” 

—

The bathroom was small, but it was one of the only unoccupied rooms with a door that locked. 

Will had me pressed against the door, and was kissing me senseless. His breath tasted like beer and vodka, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. 

I ran my hands through his dark hair, pulling him closer into me. He had one hand on my jaw, and the other was holding my waist as we moved. My hands moved down, tracing his shoulders through his shirt. He reached down suddenly, lifting my legs from beneath me and setting me on the cold, marble bathroom counter.

“Is this okay?” He asked, pulling away only momentarily.

Germany.

I nodded, grabbing his face and pulling him back into me. He stepped between my legs, running his hands up and down my bare thighs. He kissed me again, this time with more confidence than before. 

You know you’re my best friend, right?

He reached a hand up, gently tilting my head to the side and kissing down my neck. 

“Oh my gosh,” I gasped, tugging on his hair.

“Good?” He asked, continuing his path on my neck.

“Yeah,” I breathed, leaning my head back so he could continue more easily. 

You’re mine, too. 

He made his way up my neck again, sucking lightly just below my ear. 

“Peter…” I groaned, breathing out heavily. 

Will’s kisses slowed, and seconds later he took a step back, pulling away from our embrace. 

“It’s Will,” he mumbled, frowning at me. 

“What?” I asked, reaching out to pull him back into me.

“You said Peter,” he said, shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck with his palm, “Who’s Peter?” 

I blinked at him. 

“Listen, if you’re not into this, just tell me and we can stop—“

I leaned forward, and it felt like the room flipped. I jumped down from the sink. Stars blotted the edges of my vision. My head throbbed. 

You’re mine, too. 

Peter. My best friend. The Stark Internship. 

“Hang on— hang on, sorry. I need a minute.” I said, kneeling in front of the toilet. “Get Mj.” 

Germany. Aunt May. Sleepovers.

I gripped the edges of the toilet bowl, and tears started to stream down my face. Maybe I had drank too much. That’s what it was, this time. 

You’re mine, too. 

The door closed as Will left the bathroom. I dry heaved over the toilet, the stars in my vision multiplying. My head felt like it was being split in half. 

Underoos. The spell. 

You’re going to forget who I am. 

“Where is she?” I could hear Mj’s voice from outside of the door. 

The door opened. 

“Are you okay?” Mj asked, rushing to my side and holding my hair back. 

“I think she’s wasted,” I heard Will say. I leaned my head on her shoulder, shutting my eyes tightly. 

“Do you wanna go home?” Mj asked, rubbing my back gently with her other hand. 

I shook my head, feeling nauseous as tears ran down my cheeks, “Where’s Peter?”

“Who is Peter?” Mj asked, furrowing her eyebrows at me.

I looked at her, but my vision was blurred. “Call Peter,” I mumbled, “Can you please call Peter?” 

“I don’t know who that is, y/n. You’re going to need to give me some more information here.” She said, and I could tell by her tone that she was starting to get a little freaked out. “Can I call Happy? I’m gonna call Happy. Where’s your phone?”

She must have found it, because the next thing I knew, my phone was being pressed up against my ear and Happy Hogan’s voice was echoing in my head, “Y/n? Where are you?” He asked, “I am going to send a car to pick you up and take you back to your place, okay?” 

I hummed, resting my head against the cold tile of the bathroom floor. Although I wasn’t sure how I’d gotten there, it felt nice to ease the ache in my head. “Call Peter,” I told Happy through the phone, “Please… please, I need Peter.”

“Who?” Happy said, “What’s going on, kid? Do you need me to drive up there tonight?” 

“No,” I said, propping myself on my forearms and trying to push myself to a seated position. I gagged. “Happy… do you have Spider-Man’s number?” 

He didn’t say anything for a second, “Yeah… I think so, what’s going on?” 

“I’m okay,” I said, wiping sweat from my forehead, “I’ll explain later, but I need you to send that to me.” 

Mj observed the scene from beside me, holding my hair back and not saying anything. 

My phone buzzed, and I pulled it away from my face for a second. My vision was still blurred, but I could just hardly make out that Happy had sent me the phone number. “Thank you,” I groaned, feeling nauseous again, “Text me when the car is here,” I said, “I’ll call you when I get home.” 

As soon as the call ended, Mj spoke. “Y/n, what’s going on?” 

“Mj, I promise I’ll explain everything,” I said, wiping stray tears from my cheeks, “I’m okay— we’ll, I will be. I just need to go.” 

She nodded, brushing a strand of my hair behind my ear, “I trust you, but you’ve been freaking me out lately. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you haven’t been yourself in months.” 

I nodded, shakily attempting to stand. The episode had faded to a dull ache behind my eyes, but I still felt weak, and exposed in a way that I couldn’t quite explain. “I’m sorry,” I said, looking down at my phone to see that the car had arrived to pick me up, “I know. I’ll text you?” 

Mj frowned, but nodded as I rushed out of the party. People tried to stop me on the way out, asking various questions like: are okay, can you call Thor, and can I see the suit? I ignored them and bee lined for the door. 

I had waited until I was walking up to my front door— and had already sent Mj and Happy texts that I had made it home safely— to call. The entire drive back I had spent staring at the phone number that Happy had sent me, wondering what would happen when the other line picked up. 

My heart raced and tears streamed down my face in relief, anxiety, anticipation, and a million other emotions that I couldn’t bare to process all at once.

I sat on my bed, kicking off my shoes and taking a deep breath. My hands shook as my thumb hovered over the number.

He knew. 

I knew he knew. He had shown up multiple times, pretended to be his Uncle Ben… saved me from those criminals… I just wasn’t sure how much he knew. Had he had his memories wiped too? Why didn’t he tell me? He promised me that he would.

I clicked the number, bringing my phone to my ear and taking a shaky breath in. It rang once, twice.

“Hello?”

“Peter?” I tried to keep my voice steady, but failed miserably. I could feel my heart beat pounding in my throat.

“Y/n?” The voice on the other end of the line said frantically, “Are you okay? Where are you?”

Tears started slipping again, and I wiped them with the back of my hand. “Peter…” I tried to get out more. To tell him what happened, to tell him that I remembered, but I couldn’t.

“Y/n? What’s wrong? Are you— are you hurt? Just tell me where you are.”

The sharp ache in my throat wanted me to let out a sob, but I held it back. “I’m… I’m at my apartment. At MIT.”

“I’m on my way, baby. Just hang on.”

The dial tone beeped, meaning the call had ended. I let my face fall into my hands and wept. For everything. For the past few months, for the night, for what I did, for the lost years now between us, for the fact that I would soon see my best friend— and actually know who he is.

I wished my father were there to tell me what to do.

I stood, wiping off my face and running a hand through my hair. I didn’t want Peter to see me this way. I was sober by that point, but my mind was nowhere near being clear. I splashed cold water on my face in the bathroom and changed into a pair of old pajamas— and then I laid in my bed, exhaustion weighing on me from the outbreak of emotions.

A knock came on my bedroom window, not long after I laid in bed.

I moved to the side of my room, unlocked my window, and Spider-Man— my Peter— hastily climbed into my room.

He landed in front of me, reaching out to hold my face in his hands, “What’s wrong?” He asked, voice full of panic, “What happened, baby?”

Seeing him there, in front of me, after so long— it made me feel like I couldn’t breathe. My heart pounded, my mind raced. I could feel warm tears starting to slip down my face, but I didn’t speak.

“Are you hurt?” He demanded, “Did someone do something to you—“

I reached out slowly, thumbs slipping beneath the hem of his mask.

“What are you—”

I pulled the mask up, over his chin, then his lips, his nose, and finally I held the mask in my hand as I stared at the face of my forgotten best friend.

His lip was split, eyes red around the edges like he hadn’t slept in days, and his hair was sticking up in all different angles— but he was Peter. My Peter.

“Peter…” I whispered, dropping the mask and bringing my hands up to to hold his face.

“You r— you—” his voice shook, eyes searching my face for an explanation.

I nodded, tracing my shaking fingers lightly over his chin, his bottom lip, his cheekbones, his eyebrows. It had been so long. So long since I’ve looked at these features and recognized them. So long since I’ve had him close enough to touch.

I moved forward instantly, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him into me. He immediately returned the embrace, holding me tightly to him and burying his face in my neck. Hot tears fell from my eyes and soaked into the fabric of his suit.

“I’ve missed you,” he cried into my neck, “oh my— y/n I’ve missed you so much.”

“Peter,” I whispered, unable to get out any other words as I held him and sobbed. I pulled back momentarily, examining his face that was now soaked with tears.

“How did you—“

I moved forward again, pressing my lips firmly against his. It felt right. It was like all of the stars in the universe had aligned in that moment— just for us. He reciprocated instantly, kissing me deeply through our salty tears. He gripped my waist like he was afraid that I might vanish if he let go, and I held him just as tightly.

He pulled away suddenly, arms still holding me securely, “You taste like alcohol,” he said, “Have you been drinking?”

My mind flashed back to the night. The drinks. Kissing another boy. A pit of something that felt like nausea and guilt settled in my stomach.

“…Yes,” I hesitated, “But that was hours ago.”

Peter frowned, loosening his arms and stepping away, “We probably shouldn’t…” he started, “We probably shouldn’t kiss or anything then, at least not tonight.”

Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.

The realization was setting in that this moment could extend until tomorrow. That Peter Parker was back in my life. That we would have endless days together. Endless moments like this.

“Maybe tomorrow,” I said out loud, smiling.

“Definitely tomorrow,” he confirmed, smiling widely through his tears.

I looked him up and down, realizing how strange this all was. “You’re still in your suit,” I said, “Do you have other clothes to change into?”

“Uh,” he scratched the back of his neck, “Um… all of my stuff is kinda… in New York.”

Right. New York.

“Wait,” I thought out loud, my eyebrows furrowing, “Peter, what the hell are you doing in Massachusetts?”

I recalled the ‘glitch’ on Ned’s Spidey Tracker earlier in the evening— how it had said that Spider-Man was last seen in Boston. It didn’t even occur to me that it might have been accurate.

“Well,” he said, “I actually came to talk to you… then there was this robbery in Boston so I went to take care of that first… then you called me,” he smiled, “So now I’m here.”

I nodded slowly, walking to my dresser and taking out some of my father’s old clothes for Peter to wear.

“Okay…” I said, “And do you care to explain how you knew where I live?”

Peter frowned, averting eye contact as he took the clothes from me. “I’ve been wanting to come talk to you for a while,” he said.

“Peter Parker,” I teased, “Have you been stalking me?”

He looked up at me, eyes wide, “No, no! I swear it wasn’t like that. I just… well, I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

I nodded, smiling at him.

After Peter changed into regular clothes and cleaned his lip, we settled on my bed. I laid on my side, my head propped on my hand as I looked up at him. He sat against my headboard, looking exhausted, but also very relaxed.

“So…” he said, smiling down at me in a way that was so precious, I had to mentally remind myself not to sit up and kiss him right then and there.

“So…” I repeated, “We have a lot to catch up on, don’t we?”

He reached out to my hand that wasn’t being used to prop me up and began playing with my fingers, “We do,” he said.

“How long has it been?” I asked, sorting through my own memories. Some were still hazy— almost like a shiny film had been placed over them, and it was hard to tell the difference between what was authentic and what was fabricated— but the important moments seemed to have been recovered.

I knew about the spell,— which I would have to have a word with Strange about when I returned to the city— I remembered when I first met Peter, I remembered the moment that I knew that I was a goner for the boy who walked me home every day even though the tower was out of his way, and I was beginning to feel the void that had been sitting with me for years— ever since we went our separate ways.

It was like throughout all of that time, something— no, someone— was missing from my life and I couldn’t fill the void with my studies, my friends, kissing random boys.

And now that he was back in my life, I was never letting him go again.

He breathed out, still fiddling with my fingers, “Uh…” he thought, “Almost three years? Maybe a little more?”

“Wow.” I frowned. Three years? Had it really been that long?

He carefully brought my hand to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to the back of it, “Three years too long,” he mumbled into my hand, pressing another kiss before bringing it back down to rest on the comforter. “Now that I have you back, I’m not ever letting you go again. Never. Okay?”

“Peter,” I whispered, blinking away the blurriness in my vision. I tugged on his hand, pulling him to lay beside me so that we were both flat on my bed.

Wrapping his arm around my waist, he pulled me even closer, resting his forehead against mine. “I’m so happy,” he whispered.

“I am, too,” I said, smiling wide and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. I then pulled away, just far enough to look in his eyes, “How long can you stay?”

“Hm?”

“How long can you stay here, with me?” I asked, reaching a hand up to play with a strand of his hair, “Before you have to go back to New York.”

He sighed, frowning, “I wish I could stay forever… but I have intel from the chief of police that there might be a situation that I have to deal with on Saturday… sooooo maybe until then?”

Twisting his hair around my finger, I said, “Plenty of time for you to tell me everything you’ve been doing for the past three years.”

“Yeah but… let’s start with you,” he said, fingers tightening around my waist, “You got into MIT! I’m so proud of you,” he pressed a soft kiss to the tip of my nose.

“Yeah,” I sighed, removing my hand from his hair and bringing it down to trace the shape of his jaw. “I guess it’s pretty cool. It hasn’t really been… what I was expecting it to be?”

“What?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows, “but you always wanted to go to MIT.”

I nodded, “I know, I know. But I think I only wanted to go because of my dad. New York is my home… this place just feels… I don’t know. Empty?”

He nodded, a frown setting in on his features. “So, what do you want to do?”

I shrugged, “I haven’t really gotten that far yet, there has kind of been a lot on my mind lately…”

“Right,” he said, pausing for a second, thinking. “Would you ever think about transferring back? Somewhere in New York?”

“I’m not really sure…” I started, “I haven’t really allowed myself to think about it. I mean, everyone’s gone. Ned and Mj are here with me… Pepper and Morgan moved upstate… I didn’t really have anyone in the city anymore.”

“Well…” he softly spoke, bringing a hand up to cup my face, “You’d have me, now. If you ever decide to come back, that is.”

“You’re just saying that so you can leave that crappy apartment and move into the townhouse with me,” I teased.

“Oh, totally,” he said, grinning, “All of that Stark tech would be a huge game changer.”

I pinched his arm.

“Ow! I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Mostly.”

I stared at Peter, smiling the most genuine smile that I had managed to wear in a long time. I felt so entirely whole, so complete, so madly absorbed in everything related to Peter Parker.

“What?” He asked, smiling softly back at me.

“Just,” I said, “You.”

He leaned forward, once again pressing his forehead against mine and holding my face in his hands. “I can’t believe you remembered,” he whispered, “I was dying without you.

“Oh my gosh, Peter,” I suddenly laughed loudly, pulling away temporarily from his embrace and taking him by surprise.

“It felt horrible. I was at this house party, and I guess the spell like… broke? Or lifted? Or something? Anyway, I was so dizzy and my head hurt and I felt like I was going to throw up,” I rambled, “Everyone thought I was wasted. And poor Mj had to call Happy.”

Peter chuckled, his eyes brightening and squinting around the corners, “I bet Happy was so confused.”

“He was,” I nodded, “I kept saying ‘Call Peter’ and nobody knew who I was talking about.”

He pursed his lips, “Soooo… Ned and Mj?”

I shook my head, knowing what he meant, “I don’t think they remember anything. I mean… I didn’t even start realizing that something was wrong until just a couple of months ago.”

He let out a deep, sad sigh and buried his face into my neck. I reached up to run my fingers through his hair, realizing how horrible he must have felt all of this time. I still had my friends, but as far as I knew, Peter had no one. He had no family left, and even if any of the Avengers did remember him, they weren’t exactly the easiest people to track down.

“Pete,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to his hair, “You must feel… you must feel so alone.”

“I did,” he mumbled into my neck, and I could hear his voice crack just slightly, “But I always knew you would remember. I knew that someday you would come back to me. We could never stay away from each other anyway, it just took a while longer than I was expecting.”

I held his head tightly into me, pressing kisses all over the top of his head. I was fully prepared to make it my personal responsibility to make sure that Peter would never go a single day for the rest of his life wondering if there was someone out there who loved him.

“When did you remember?” I whispered, carting my fingers through his curls.

“What?” He replied, pressing a soft kiss to my collarbone.

“How long ago did you remember?” I asked again.

He lifted his head from where it rested, bringing his eyes to meet mine with furrowed brows. “I don’t— uh, the spell…” he spoke, “Don’t you remember?”

I frowned, trying to retrieve my memories from that day. Some of them were there, but the only part that I really remembered was sobbing and kissing my best friend for what I was afraid would be the last time. “That day is still kind of shiny.”

“What?”

“Some of my memories… they’re not all there yet,” I explained, “Like, I remember you. I remember us, but some of my memories are like… glossed over? In a way? Like they haven’t fully caught up yet.”

“Y/n…” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I never lost my memories.”

“What? But— but the spell.”

My stomach dropped. A wave of doubt and betrayal slowly started to creep in, wiping away every feeling of relief that temporarily had given me any sort of security.

“The spell was—“ Peter explained slowly, a pained expression crossing his face, “It was to make everyone forget who I am. It wasn’t… I didn’t forget anything. You all just forgot me,” he said.

“Sorry,” I said, pushing myself straight up to a seated position, “So let me get this straight. You’ve known. You’ve known who I was— where I was— for three years?”

“Y/n, it’s more complicated than—“

“Answer the question, Peter.”

“Yes, but—“

“You’ve known. For three years. And you didn’t come and tell me?” I took a deep, controlled breath, clenching my hands together.

My heart raced. I suddenly felt sick again, like before, but this time it wasn’t because a spell was being broken. My hands were clammy and I felt the need to gag.

“Y/n,” Peter pleaded, lifting himself to sit up next to me, “Please, just let me explain.”

“You better have one damn good explanation, Parker,” I said, and I could feel my fingers beginning to shake.

“Y/n, baby, please listen to me,” he moved toward me, reaching out for my hand but I quickly pulled it out of his grasp. “Do you remember that day at the coffee shop? When you told Ned and Mj that you got into MIT?”

I nodded.

“I came to talk to you. That day. I have a whole letter written— that one in my apartment, remember?” he continued, “And I tried again and again after that. But every time I found you— you all just looked so happy. And I almost ruined that for you. Do you remember that?”

“No,” I answered, shaking my head.

“You don’t remember? The three of you weren’t going to go to MIT because of me. I almost ruined your chance at a future. I couldn’t do that to you again,” he explained, eyes frantic with emotion, “I couldn’t ruin your life, again. You were all better off without me. It’s my responsibility, as Spider-Man, to let you live the life that I wasn’t able to.”

“Peter, that’s not your decision to make,” I warned.

The thought that he truly believed that there would ever be a world in which I would be better off without him broke me in a way that I wasn’t sure could ever be repaired. My heart broke for him, but it also broke for me.

“Please,” he pleaded, “please don’t hate me. I came tonight, to tell you everything. I swear I was going to tell you.”

“After three years.”

“I knew that you were starting to figure it out… then I ran into you outside of that club— well, I was actually there because I was making sure you were safe… well, that doesn’t matter now— anyway, then I saw you again and you called me Peter,” he inched closer to me, his voice sounding tragically hopeful. “I knew that if you had already started to figure it out that it was only a matter of time until… well, I’m not really sure what I expected to happen next.”

“Peter.” I said, swinging my feet over the edge of my bed and standing.

“Yeah?”

“You’ve known. For three years. And you didn’t tell me…” I took a deep breath, selecting my next words carefully, “I would never have done that to you.”

“Y/n, please,” he quickly stood up as well, taking my hands in his, “Please just try to see it from my side. I never wanted to hurt you.”

I shook my head, emotion rising heavily in my throat. “I do see it from your side, Peter,” I said, though my voice shook, “But I also know that if it were the other way around— if you forgot me, I mean— I wouldn’t be able to go a single day— in any universe— knowing that you were out there, and that you weren’t with me. I couldn’t do it.”

“Baby, please,” He said, his voice cracking as tears started to leak from the corners of his eyes, “Ple— please just try to understand. I never wanted to live without you. I can’t live without you. I thought I could… every second that I spent without you felt like hell, but I thought you would be better… I thought you would be happier without me.”

“Get out.” I said, tugging my hands away from his own as the tears that I had been holding back began to spill from my eyes.

“Y/n,” he shook his head quickly, taking a step closer to me, “Please, let’s just talk, we c— we can figure this out. Please. I can’t go back to life without you.”

“Peter—“

“y/n I love you.”

I blinked up at him through my tears, shaking my head and opening my mouth— but no words came out.

“I love you,” he repeated, “I’ve been in love with you since we were 14. Please don’t do this, please don’t make me lose you again.”

“You wanted this!” I shouted, my emotions getting the best with me as my entire being was entirely overcome with a combination of built up frustration, betrayal, heartbreak, and disappointment.

“You had three years, Peter,” I moved across my bedroom, opening the window that he had first come through, “You chose this. You did this to both of us.”

“Y/n, please,” he begged me, “Let’s just go to sleep and we can talk about it in the morning.”

At that moment, I nearly gave into him. I almost allowed myself to temporarily push aside the negative feelings and just allow myself to feel the relief, the completeness, and the overwhelming love that I felt when Peter first stepped into my room just less than an hour prior.

But I was my father’s daughter, so that is not what I did.

“Get out,” I said.

—

“Hey, you okay?” Mj asked from across our table in the dining hall.

It was Monday morning, and it was the first time that I was seeing my friends— with a small exception of Mj bringing Gatorade to my apartment on Friday morning— since the night of the party. I had told them that I’d had a stomach bug all weekend and wasn’t able to leave my apartment. They didn’t believe me, and I knew they didn’t believe me, but they didn’t push.

Really, I had been laying in bed for endless hours and dodging phone calls for the entire weekend. I spent the entirety of the past several days feeling like my heart had gotten pieced together, ripped out, stomped on, and then put back together all over again.

And yet, somehow that didn’t feel quite as horrible as the image of Peter, laying alone in his crappy apartment, staring at the ceiling with nobody to talk to, laugh to, or cry to. For years.

My heart could be broken eighty times over, but it could never hurt as badly as it hurt to live my life without him. Or to know that he was living his life without anyone.

I doubted that things would ever truly go back to the way that they used to be. After all, the Peter that I remembered— my Peter— would never have done this to me. But maybe after all of that time, he really was not my Peter anymore.

However, I told myself that I would call him back as soon as I received the confirmation email from the registrar’s office. Even if we could never truly be us again, that didn’t mean that I had to leave him all alone.

On Sunday evening, after I was sure the last of my memories had returned, I had pulled out my laptop and sent an email to the school to let them know that I would be taking a temporary leave of absence, beginning as soon as this semester came to a close.

It wasn’t only because of Peter. I hadn’t been happy in a while, and MIT didn’t feel like it could be somewhere where I truly felt like I belonged. After two very long phone calls— one with Happy, and one with Pepper— I decided that it would be best for me to explore my options elsewhere. Starting with New York.

The world didn’t end for me if I took a break from school, and I could always go back if I wanted to. For now, I had some big decisions to make. I could start working for my father’s company, I could help the city reduce crime rates, hell— I could even join the New Avengerz.

“Yeah,” I nodded, looking up at Mj, “I’m okay.”

And I meant it. For the first time in years, my brain was free from false memories and I no longer felt like I was missing a major part of myself. But most importantly, I was ready to start a new chapter of my life. One where I belonged. Where I could decide what is best for me.

Mj smiled, turning and whispering something to Paul. They had evidently gotten more cozy since Thursday night, and Ned already had made it a habit of wiggling his eyebrows at me every time the two got close to each other.

“Hey y/n?” Ned asked, halfway through chewing a fry, “Who is Peter?”

“What?” I asked, my eyes snapping to him.

“Peter?” He asked, “Everyone is saying that on Thursday night— when you got really sick— You kept asking for someone named Peter.”

“Oh,” I said, “Peter is…” I paused, unsure how how to continue.

They had to know at some point. It wasn’t fair for me to lie to them, and I wouldn’t let Peter go on without telling them for much longer. Yet, it still didn’t feel like my place to say. At least not yet. It should come from him.

“He’s an old friend,” I said, finally.

“Sounds like more than just a friend,” Mj chimed in, raising an eyebrow at me.

I shook my head, feeling a blush coat my cheeks, “Maybe you’ll meet him one day,” I said.

My last class of the day was an evening class, and I felt like I should actually attend, since I only had a couple more months before I might decide to never return to the campus again.

Unluckily for me, however, the class dragged on with useless information that my father had taught me when I was seven.

With an exhausted brain, I trudged through a layer of snow across campus, holding my coat tightly in an attempt to fend off the cold. It was nearly nine o’clock at night, and I was seriously considering never attending that class again.

After I finally arrived back to my quiet, empty apartment, I shook the snow off of my boots and settled on the couch with a bowl of pasta and my phone. I read through some of the texts that I had received over the weekend.

Pepper: how are you doing, honey?

did you send the email?

Peter: please just call me when you get a chance

i just want to talk to you

it can’t end like this

Happy: I’m really proud of you, kid

Peter: y/n please talk to me

this is killing me

Ned: I just saw Mj and Paul kiss.

Have you heard of shark fire energy?

I managed to get through responding to a couple of them, but stopped halfway through when the email came through. I clicked on the notification instantly.

Dear Ms. Stark,

We have received your request, and are sorry to see that you will not be joining us next semester. You will be eligible for enrollment in classes for a total of: 2 semesters. For any further inquiries, contact the registrar or call the registration office for more information.

Thank you,

MIT Registrar’s Office

I exited the email, and dialed the phone number before I could fully think it through.

“Y/n?”

“Peter,” I said, smiling.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his voice rough like he just woke up, “I’ve… I’ve been calling you for days.”

“I’m okay,” I replied, “I had to process. I think I’m done processing. Now, guess what.”

“What?” He asked, humoring me.

“I just got confirmation from MIT to take some time off… starting at the end of this semester,” I told him.

I could hear him shifting around on the other end.

“That’s great,” he said, “do you really think that is what’s best for you?”

“Yeah,” I smiled into the phone, “I do.”

“That’s really great, y/n,” Peter said, sounding exhausted.

My smile fell, “You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he replied, “It’s just been a crazy weekend… but… I’m really glad you called.”

“Yeah,” I said, “me too… so about your crazy weekend…”

“What?”

“Wanna come tell me about it?” I asked.

It was my way of extending an olive branch. For now. The several days of rumination, anger, and feeling sorry for myself had given me enough time to reevaluate what really mattered to me. And that was Peter. It always was and always would be.

“Wha— like, like come up there?” He asked, and I could hear him sitting up.

“Yes,” I smiled, “I’ll pay for your train ticket. The last train of the day is in thirty minutes.”

Okay, I admit, I had been checking the train times during my evening class. The lecture was incredibly dull, and it helped me pass the time.

“Really? You— you want to see me?”

“Twenty nine minutes.”

“Okay, yeah. I’ll go get ready now,” movement came from the other end of the line.

“Unless your week is too busy?” I suggested, “I wouldn’t want New York burning down when I steal their spider.”

“No… uh—“ he said, sounding far away from the phone, “Dewolff actually just told me to take a few days off… I kind of put some serious criminals away this weekend…”

“Yay for you,” I smirked, “Dewolff?”

“The Chief,” he answered.

“Ah,” I said, “So… I’ll see you soon?”

“See you soon.”

—

It was almost two o’clock in the morning, and Peter and I were both out of breath from laughing so hard as he finished giving a very detailed recount of his weekend with taking down the Scorpion.

He had arrived at my apartment almost an hour ago, exhausted, bruised, and looking like a sad puppy who had just been kicked. That lasted all of five minutes before things snapped back into place, and we carried on as if we’d never been separated to begin with.

“I’ve missed this,” he sighed, laying next to me on the carpet on the floor in the middle of my living room.

Smiling, I looked over at him. “Me too,” I said.

“Does this mean you don’t hate me anymore?” Peter asked, turning on his side to face me.

I turned to match him, “I could never hate you, Peter,” I said, shaking my head.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I know I messed up, big time. I just wanted—“

“Peter,” I reached out, placing my hand on his forearm to stop him. “It’s okay. I mean, I’m still totally pissed at you, and I still feel betrayed in a way that I didn’t think you could ever bring out of me, but we’re fine.”

“We are?” There it was again, the kicked puppy face.

“I meant what I said…” I started, “There would never be a version of me— not in the entire multiverse— that would want to live without you…” I paused, blinking hard. “I guess… I guess that’s why it was so hard for me. Knowing that you didn’t feel that way about me.”

He shook his head, “Y/n, it’s not that. I could never live with knowing that you were unhappy. Especially if I was the one who caused you to be that way. I thought you would be happier without me.”

I sighed, tracing my finger tips over the hair on his forearm, “Well, that could never be the case… but it’s okay, really... I— I want us to be friends.”

“Friends…” he repeated, as if the word had a funny taste in his mouth.

“Yes,” I said, “I can’t promise that things will ever be the way they used to be… I mean, so much has changed in the past three years. Plus, you live in New York, I live in Cambridge— well, at least for now— but I need you in my life and I know you need me, too.”

“I do,” he said, reaching out to push a strand of my hair behind my ear, “I need you.”

I nodded, averting eye contact as my face started to feel hot. “Good talk… now I have a 9am class tomorrow, so I guess I’d better…”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding and sitting up. “Yeah, you should get to bed.”

This time— prepared to stay— Peter brought a small duffle bag with him that held his clothes. We both got ready for bed, squishing together under the dim lighting of the bathroom while we brushed our teeth.

“How long can you stay?” I asked, mouth full of toothpaste.

He held up a finger, gesturing for me to wait as he spit in the sink. After rinsing, he responded, “Dewolff will expect me back on probably… Thursday? So I can stay until then? I mean— if that’s okay with you.”

I smiled, nodding as I leaned over the sink to spit my own toothpaste out, “That sounds good.”

He stood next to me—wearing his plaid pajama pants and old grey t-shirt— and stared at me through the mirror.

“What is it?” I asked, setting my toothbrush down and turning to face him.

He smiled, eyes tracing my face over and over again, “I just really, really missed you,” he said.

I moved forward, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck and pulling him to me. He instantly melted into the embrace, holding me against him and breathing into my neck. He smelled just like he used to.

“I love you so much,” he whispered into my hair, his fingers slowly stroking the back of my head.

“Peter…” I said, pulling away to look at him. I wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t that I didn’t feel that way, definitely not that. But it had been so long, and deep down I was still feeling betrayed. I wasn’t sure if—

“You’ve got some toothpaste,” he mumbled, bringing his thumb up to my lip and slowly wiping away the missed toothpaste. My brain glitched.

Like a magnet, I could feel myself gravitating toward Peter. I inched closer, looking deeply into his eyes. He moved forward too. I felt his breath on my lips, and the gentle brush of his thumb on my cheek as his eyes flicked between my own and my lips.

His tongue darted out, swiping over his lips. He didn’t close the distance, just paused there, less than an inch from contact. He was waiting for me to lean in.

“Uh,” I cleared my throat, breaking the moment, “We should probably get to bed.”

Friends. We were supposed to be friends. Things had been far too complicated for too long, and I wanted us to relearn each other before jumping into what we had before. Not that we ever were officially together, but we were always so uncontrollably magnetic, and if I hadn’t lost my memories I was sure that it wouldn’t have taken us long.

“Right,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, totally.”

I paused, halfway through exiting the bathroom, “The guest room is… well, there’s no furniture in there. Are you okay on the couch?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, avoiding eye contact, “Yeah, for sure.”

—

“You’re seriously not coming?” Ned asked, setting down his piece of pizza and spinning around on his chair to face me.

I shrugged, kicking my feet up on my couch and flicking through the channels on the tv. “I’m tired,” I said, “I had two presentations and an exam this week. I kind of just want to take this weekend to chill.”

It was a rainy Friday afternoon in mid-March, and I had invited my friends (plus Paul) over for pizza and drinks before they went out to some cool new club.

To tell the truth, I did kind of want to go to the club. It was tempting— and I felt kind of crappy for making Ned third wheel. But, I hadn’t seen Peter in almost a month and he was already on the train to come stay with me for the entire weekend.

The month had been insane for both of us. There was some crime ring that he had been working really hard to bust for weeks— which he had finally captured and turned over to the Chief of Police yesterday— and I had midterms.

So arguably, I had it harder than him.

We texted everyday, and we tried to talk on the phone at least once a week. It was nice, having him back in my life. But it wasn’t the same as seeing him in person. Which was why I was starting to feel a mix of anxiety and butterflies overtaking my stomach.

“She’s probably ditching us to hang out with Peter,” Mj announced, exiting the bathroom.

“What?” I sat up quickly, almost dropping the remote.

“Your new boyfriend?” Mj said, smirking.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on,” she continued, sitting next to Ned at the kitchen counter. “Last weekend when we were out you were texting him all night. Sappy stuff too, like ‘I miss you’ and ‘When can I see you next’ and then he was all like ‘Don’t drink too much’ and ‘I miss you more.”

“You saw that?” I asked, grabbing a throw pillow and covering my face with it.

“Oh yeah,” she said, “And now he’s leaving a toothbrush in your bathroom? I bet it’s getting serious.”

“What?” Ned demanded, “How did I miss all of this? You have a boyfriend?”

I threw the pillow to the other end of the couch, “I don’t have a boyfriend,” I said, “Peter is… just a friend.”

I didn’t want to say any more. Peter insisted that he should be the one to tell them, but he was waiting for the right time. I could tell that he was still worried that he would put them in danger if he told them— and that he was afraid that they wouldn’t remember at all and then want absolutely nothing to do with him.

I didn’t rush him, but I reminded him often that they deserved to know.

Ned groaned, throwing his head back, “Now I’m going to have to be a fifth wheel?”

“No,” I said, “Definitely not, now someone tell me about this club you’re going to so I can get excited to join you next weekend?”

Paul started talking about how he knew the owners, and something about how they converted some old warehouse into a five story nightclub. I didn’t really care, I just wanted to change the subject.

“I just can’t believe you’re missing a night out and you’ll be leaving us next semester,” Ned commented.

A week after I had made my choice to step away from MIT, I had told Ned and Mj about my decision. They were supportive, of course, because they’re amazing— but, that didn’t stop me from feeling a little bit sad about leaving them.

They already were inviting me to come visit every weekend, and of course they planned to move back for summers and post grad, but deep down I knew it wouldn’t be the same.

I wasn’t questioning my decision, I knew that MIT wasn’t right for me, but it felt bittersweet in a way that I didn’t expect it to.

“You better be ready, because I am committed to spending every weekend of the rest of the semester with you guys,” I told them.

Peter knocked on my door just five minutes after my friends had left for the club. I was still midway through cleaning up pizza boxes and washing wine glasses.

I opened the door and he wrapped me in the tightest hug, kissing my forehead repeatedly.

“Hi, Pete,” I laughed, hugging him back.

“It’s so good to see you,” he said, pressing another kiss to the tip of my nose.

“You too,” I said, pulling away from his embrace and returning to the sink to finish the dishes. “Tell me about your week.”

He dropped his duffle bag next to the door and followed me to the sink, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind and pressing another kiss to my cheek.

“It doesn’t even matter anymore,” he mumbled into the back of my neck, “I’m just so happy to be with you again. That’s all I want to think about right now.”

He pressed on my hips, spinning me around to face him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my wet hands dripping down the back of his shirt. He pressed a kiss to my cheek, then my nose.

“Tell me about your week,” he said, pressing another slow, soft kiss to the corner of my mouth.

“Pete…” I whispered, my eyes flicking down to his lips.

Just then, my front door swung open.

“Oh! Sorry!” Ned stepped inside, holding a hand over his eyes, “I didn’t see anything!”

“Ned?” I said, moving a fair distance away from Peter, “What are you doing?”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, heading to the living room, “I forgot my phone!”

I smiled at Peter, who looked completely and utterly stunned to see Ned in front of him.

Ned returned to the kitchen, phone in hand. “You must be Peter!” he said, smiling brightly at Peter.

Peter stood there for a moment in shock before he replied, “Uh… yeah, hey, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve uh— I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Ned smiled, looking between Peter and myself.

We both blinked at him.

“Sorry,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at me, “I’ll leave you to it.”

On his way out, he gave me a quick glance and a thumbs up, to which I rolled my eyes.

When the door shut, I turned to Peter, who was still completely in shock. He looked a little bit disheveled, but mostly heartbroken.

“You have to tell him soon, you know,” I said, stepping in front of him and brushing a curl out of his eyes.

“I know,” he said quietly, nodding, “I will. I promise.”

I felt a deep ache in my chest, watching how much it destroyed Peter to see our friends living their lives without him.

“You okay?” I asked, holding his face in my hands.

He kissed my palm, “I’m okay,” he replied, quietly.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” I asked.

He shook his head, “Another time.”

“Okay.”

“I missed you so much, babe,” he said, bringing me into his arms again, “I have so much to tell you.”

“Tell me everything.”

—

The end of the semester was approaching, and I had my nose shoved in a laptop screen for the past three days. My vision was going blurry, my head was aching, and I was certain that if I got assigned one more paper that I would cry.

My professors were defeating me more than any super villain had— mentally, that is— and I was ready to blow off some steam. That’s why, when Ned had texted me at 2pm asking if I wanted to go out that night, it was an easy decision.

We were at a small bar in town. One that was mostly filled with wasted college kids who were there for the same reasons as us— stress relief. It was crowded for a Wednesday night, but that wasn’t surprising with the time of year.

I sat around a table with Ned, Mj, Paul, and a couple of Paul’s friends. Luckily, Will hadn’t made many appearances since that night.

We had gotten a couple of pitchers for the table, but Ned and I were drinking cocktails— which meant that the two of us were significantly more wasted than anybody else.

Paul’s friends kept asking me for ‘cool Avengers stories’, and I was providing.

I had already gotten through being ten during the alien invasion, what it was like to live at the Avengers Compound, and I had answered lots of questions about Black Widow.

My drink sloshed around in my cup as I spoke animatedly, recalling one of my favorite memories.

“The one time,” I started, already laughing, “My best friend and I— we hacked into my dad’s quinjet and took off to Italy for a night—“ I paused to laugh, “He tracked us down, of course, but then we were both grounded for like three months.”

“Who was that?” Mj chimed in, looking at me over the rim of her beer glass.

“What?” I asked, taking another sip of my cosmo.

“Your best friend in the story,” she said, “And why have we never heard this story?”

“I bet it was one of the Avengers,” Paul’s friend said.

I pointed at him, clicking my tongue, “Bingo,” I said, “It’s Avengers business, I can’t share who it was.”

The conversation shifted to everyone’s plans for next semester, and I slipped off to the bathroom after taking another sip of my drink. The music was deafened in the bathroom, and when I looked at myself in the mirror my ears felt fuzzy.

I pulled out my phone, smiling crazily at myself in the mirror. My phone rang twice, and picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Peterrr,” I slurred, “I miss you so much!”

He laughed, “Are you drunk, sweetheart?”

“A little,” I admitted, swiping some mascara off from where it had settled underneath my eyes “But I just miss you.”

“I miss you too, baby” he said, and I could feel the butterflies swarming in my stomach. “I’ll see you next week, yeah?”

I frowned, “I really wish I could see you tonight...” I tried to keep my words steady, but failed, “I wish you were here. I would kiss you if you were here.”

“Y/n,” he laughed, and I could practically hear him shaking his head through the phone, “You’re drunk. Go drink some water, silly.”

I smiled, enjoying the sound of his voice. I could have stayed in the bathroom all night talking to him.

“Would you kiss me?” I asked, steadying myself on the sink.

“Babe,” he said, “Go get some water, we can talk about that another time.”

“Peterrrrr,” I pouted, “I know we’re just friends but—“

“Y/n,” he cut me off, sparing me from further embarrassment, “Go spend time with Ned and Mj, okay?”

“But I miss your face,” I said, frowning.

“Me too,” he replied, “Wanna FaceTime when you get home?”

“Yeah,” I smiled wide.

“Okay,” he laughed, “Go have fun. Be safe, please.”

“I’ll go drink some water,” I said, proudly.

“You do that,” he laughed again, “Bye, y/n. I love you.”

“Bye Peter,” I smiled as I ended the call.

The rest of the night ended up becoming one of my favorite memories from my short time at MIT. We stayed out late— until the bar closed— and then we sprinted back across campus in a thunderstorm to my apartment where we all ordered McDonald’s on DoorDash and watched a scary movie.

Paul clinged to Mj, who was completely unphased, Paul’s friends sat in the corner— making silly comments, and Ned and I almost pissed ourselves every time a jump scare came on.

Halfway through the movie, my phone started ringing. Ned and I were still totally wasted, and it only took one ‘answer it’ from him for me to be convinced.

I picked up the call, turning the volume down so not to disturb anyone.

“Peterrrr,” I whispered, smiling as his face filled my screen. He looked exhausted. He was laying in his bed with a black hoodie on, and an arm behind his head. He looked hot.

“Hi, Peter!” Ned said, loudly enough that it caught Mj’s attention.

“Is that Peter?” Mj asked, moving from her place on the couch to join us where we were sitting on the floor.

“Hey, guys,” he said as Ned and Mj came into view behind me, clearly completely caught off guard to see them.

“Sorry,” I told him, “I know I said I would call but then everyone came over and we are watching this movie and it’s scary as hell.”

“It’s so scary,” Ned said, taking the phone from me and flipping my camera around to show Peter the screen.

“Oh, okay,” Peter said stiffly, like he wasn’t quite sure how to talk in front of them yet, “Well, I can let you go, I didn’t know you were—“

“No,” Ned said, handing my phone back, “You two talk, I won’t listen.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling at my friend. “Sorry,” I said to Peter.

“How come we still haven’t met you, Peter?” Mj asked, leaning over my shoulder from behind me to look at my phone. “You’re our best friend’s boyfriend and I haven’t seen you once,” she said, interrogatively.

He smiled, eyes squinting as he adjusted the hood of his sweatshirt, “I guess it just hasn’t worked out.”

“Hm,” Mj said, giving me a harsh side-eye.

“And, he’s not my boyfriend,” I said, looking back at Mj.

“That’s total bullshit,” Ned said, clearly listening again, “I walked in on you two kissing that one day— and that was months ago.”

“We weren’t kissing,” I defended, glaring at Ned.

“Yeah,” Mj said, lightly smacking my shoulder, “Ned told me about that!”

“We weren’t kissing!” I repeated, laughing, “Right, Peter?”

He laughed at the commotion on my end of the phone, “I can confirm that we were not kissing.”

Ned and Mj glanced at each other with a look that said ‘I call bullshit.’

“How was your day?” I asked, my words still slightly slurred as I turned my attention back to Peter.

“It was okay,” he said, still smiling at me, “How was yours?”

“It’s better now,” I replied, smiling goofily through the phone.

“Cringe,” Ned said, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Yeah seriously,” Mj said, “you’re a Stark, you basically have rizz built into your dna. That’s the best you’ve got?”

“You guys,” I blushed, turning the camera up to the ceiling and covering my face, “I’m not going to flirt with Peter in front of all of you.”

“I’m sure Peter won’t mind,” Mj said, “Would you Peter?”

I picked my phone back up to see Peter laughing at us, covering his eyes with his arm.

He pulled his arm away, still smiling and said, “No, have at it.”

Ned grinned, “Come on, give Peter your best pick up line.”

“You guys—“

“I want to hear this,” Paul said, pausing the movie.

Peter threw his head back, laughing hysterically.

“Well now there’s too much pressure, I can’t just come up with something on the spot,” I said, setting my phone down and covering my face.

“Come on, babe,” Peter said, still giggling, “You were pretty good at flirting earlier.”

“OHHHHH” Ned and Mj practically fell into each other with laughter.

—

It was a particularly hot evening in June— the type where the humidity makes you feel sticky all over—, and I had just gotten back to the townhouse from visiting Mj at work.

“Peter?” I called into the house, but got no response.

Peter had been staying at the townhouse with me most nights of the week. He slept on the couch, or in a spare room, of course, but it was a total upgrade from his crappy apartment— and honestly, I just loved being with him.

Seeing him occasionally throughout the school year was one thing, but getting to see him almost every day— existing in the same space with him— it was a whole territory that I had forgotten.

Before I had completely forgotten who he was, we were attached at the hip. We had sleepovers at least once a week, we spent almost all of our time together in the Compound, and we were literally two parts of the same whole.

I had forgotten what it felt like to operate that way, but now that it was back I was ready to hold onto it as tightly as I could and never let it out of my grasp again.

I turned on the news mindlessly, allowing it to play in the background as I started to sort through the many boxes littering my living space.

“It seems that the villain who calls himself Tombstone has been arrested and is currently under investigation for many crimes, involving—“

My eyes snapped up to the tv, remembering Peter telling me about that villain on multiple occasions.

“Thanks to the Spider-Man, once again we are safe from another major threat. Thank you Spider-Man.”

I smiled, going back to my boxes, but keeping the tv on in the background. With how much Peter had been working lately, it worried me that he might get hurt, or worse… I couldn’t even imagine it.

I managed to make my way through three and a half of the boxes before the front door swung open.

“Hey babe,” Peter said, kicking off his shoes, “I was thinking Indian tonight?”

“Hey,” I said, setting the box that I had been working on down in front of me, “Are you okay?”

He walked over to me, and I could see a deep, purple bruise taking up his right cheek. His hair was damp and he wasn’t in the suit anymore, so I guessed he went home to clean up before coming over here.

“Yes,” he replied, coming up to hug me from behind, “I’m okay, it’s been a really long day,” he said, kissing me on the cheek. “I just want to spend the rest of my day with you.”

Everything about it felt painfully domestic. But not painful in a way that hurts in any sort of harmful way— moreso painful in a way that makes your chest ache because it feels so real.

Yet, that didn’t stop me from turning and replying, “Indian sounds good.”

We ended up getting take out, since Peter looked like he had just been in combat— which technically, he had. We sat on the couch, facing each other with take out containers in hand as we ate.

“It feels so nice to have you back in New York,” he said, mouth full of rice.

“I think so too,” I smiled.

“Do you know what you’re doing yet for next year?” He asked me.

I took a bite of my food, thinking for a moment.

“I just talked to Happy yesterday,” I said, “And I’m meeting with some people from Stark Industries in a couple of weeks to see how I can get involved— at least a little bit, for now.”

“That’s so great,” he said, poking my leg with his fork.

I could tell that Peter was beyond exhausted, so after dinner I finished up with unpacking the box that I had been working on earlier and then went to my room to get ready for bed.

Peter was still laying on the couch after I had changed into my pajamas, so I went back into the living room and laid down next to him. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and another around my waist. Our legs tangled. I reached a hand up to run my fingers through his hair, and he sighed, letting his eyes flicker shut.

Up close, I was able to get a better look at the bruise on his face. I carefully reached my other hand up, running my fingers over it lightly. It looked like it hurt. He would have had to take a serious hit to the face for that to develop, especially so quickly.

Seeing him hurt made something inside me hurt as well.

I leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to it. He smiled, eyes still closed.

“Hey Peter?” I whispered, continuing to run my fingers through his hair.

“Hm?” He hummed, fully relaxing into my touch.

“I love you,” I whispered for the first time. And I meant it, with every piece of my being.

His eyes blinked open, and he searched my face for any signs of hesitation.

“I love you,” I repeated, my lips curving into a smile.

His eyes lit up, and he looked at me with complete and total adoration. “I love you so much,” he said, eyes getting teary.

“Wanna come hang out in my room before bed?” I asked, kissing his nose as I started to stand up.

“Yes.” he said, instantly following my lead.

We settled in my bed together, taking turns showing each other silly videos on our phones and laughing until we couldn’t breathe.

He had been showing me a ship edit that someone had made of my father and Steve, and we both laughed so hard that we were just finishing wiping the remaining tears from our eyes when Pepper called.

“Hey, Pep!” I said, picking up the phone.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Pepper said, “How are you doing?”

“I’m good,” I yawned, “What are you up to?”

Peter nudged me, whispering that he had to go grab his phone charger from the living room. I nodded as he started to get out of bed.

“Is that Peter?” Pepper asked, hearing his voice through the phone.

“Yes,” I smiled. Pepper didn’t remember Peter, but she honestly hardly knew him in the first place. I explained to her many times that we were just friends, but she never believed me. ‘That’s what your dad and I were, too, you know,’ she would tell me.

“Put me on speaker,” she told me. I did.

“Hi Peter!!”

“Hi Pepper!” Peter called, leaving the room to grab his charger.

“He’s staying over now?” Pepper asked.

“Pepper!”

“Good!” She said, “There’s something different about you when you’re with him. You’re really happy, I can tell.”

“Okay, thanks, I’m gonna go now!” I said.

“Alright, well call me back tomorrow,” she told me, “Morgan has been asking when you’re coming to visit next.”

“Okay,” I said, “I’ll call you tomorrow and we can figure it out.”

“Maybe you can bring Peter!” She teased.

“Bye, Pep.”

Peter reentered the room and returned to his place next to me, plugging his phone in and placing it on the bedside table.

“Hey…” I said, turning my own phone off and throwing it to the side.

“Yeah?” He asked, rolling over to face me.

“Do you want to sleep in here tonight?” I asked, inching closer to my best friend.

“Uh—“ he said, eyes going wide, “I mean— is that what you want?”

I nodded, tracing my finger lightly over his bruise again. “I meant what I said, Pete.”

His eyes scanned my face, and he inched closer, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Say it again,” he whispered.

“I love you,” I said, feeling him pulling me closer underneath the blankets by my waist.

“You do?” He asked, staring deeply into my eyes.

“So much,” I whispered, wrapping an arm around his neck and allowing myself to get even closer. “I love you, Peter Parker.”

“I’m never letting you go, again,” he whispered, eyes flicking down to my lips.

“Peter…”

“Can I?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He closed the space between us, kissing me passionately and pulling me flush against him by my waist. It was everything that I had been missing. I kissed him back with just as much fire.

He brought a hand up, holding my jaw gently as he deepened the kiss. I ran my hands through his curls, encouraging him not to stop.

I rolled onto my back, pulling him with me so that the upper part of his body hovered over my own. My pulse hammered in my throat as I allowed his tongue to enter my mouth.

The kiss deepened again, and Peter pressed his palms into my pillow, supporting himself as he moved on top of me. He kicked my legs apart, pressing his weight fully against me.

It felt like nothing in the world mattered, except us in that moment.

I tugged again on his curls, and he detached his mouth from mine for a moment, but immediately started trailing kisses down my jaw and onto my neck. I tilted my head back, sighing.

“Peter,” I breathed, “I love you.”

“I love you so much,” he mumbled against my neck, continuing to kiss me.

—

“Oh my gosh, Peter!” I breathed out, watching my boyfriend raise his head to look at me, curls standing up and eyes locked on mine.

It was an early morning in September, the leaves had just begun to turn colors, and Ned and Mj had just left for college— meaning Peter and I finally had an entire week entirely to ourselves. And we had planned on spending most of it just like this.

“Is that good?” he asked, moving forward to kiss me deeply through our saliva and sweat.

I nodded, breathing out, “Yes.”

“Do you wanna keep going?” He asked, a hand slipping under the hem of my— his— pajama top.

I nodded again, “Yes.”

He grinned, reaching down to lift his shirt over his head. In the time that we had been apart, Peter had gotten really hot. He was always hot, and of course I was always madly in love with him, but this was a whole new level. We had just started officially dating a couple of months ago— not that we ever really weren’t together— but I was ready to make up for all of our lost time.

I pulled him back down to me, tracing my fingers down his back and kissing him hard. He pulled away, kissing down my neck and slipped his hand underneath my top.

“Is this okay?” He asked, looking up at me.

I nodded quickly.

His other hand trailed up my thigh, stopping just below the bottom of my sleep shorts.

“Peter,” I gasped.

A loud noise came from the corner of the room.

“Shit!” Peter said, pulling away and grabbing his phone. “Shit,” he said, “I’m so sorry, baby, I’ve got to go.”

I sighed, letting my head fall against my pillow.

“Crime alert?” I asked.

He didn’t respond. I looked over and saw him pressing his palm into his head and squinting one eye.

“Hey,” I said, sitting up, “You okay?”

He nodded, “It’s just a headache. I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, moving to the edge of the bed and reaching for his hand.

“Yeah,” he said, “I’ve got to go, but I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Okay…” I said, pulling him down to kiss me. “Please be safe, Pete.”

“Always,” he said, pressing another kiss to my lips, “I will always come back to you. I promise.”

“I love you,” I told him, “And you better make this up to me when you get back,” I teased.

He leaned down, pressing one final kiss to my forehead before grabbing his backpack, “Oh, I will. I don’t plan on leaving that bed for the rest of the week.”

“Peter,” I rolled my eyes.

He opened the window, climbing outside, backpack in hand, “I love you,” he told me, “I’ll be back soon.”

And he did come back to me. Every time.

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

synopsis: Peter Parker and Y/n Stark were best friends. Inseparable. That was, before she had every memory of him completely erased… but if anyone could figure it out, it would be a Stark.

warnings: 18+, Brand New Day spoilers, a little steamy, they’re super in love, mention of blood, college parties/drinking, fighting, grief, suggestive at times, memory loss, smoking, drunkenness, cursing, mentions of health conditions, headaches, angsttt

word count: 29k (total)

Before

My hands shook inside my suit as my adrenaline began to fade. I slowly descended in the wreckage next to Ned and Mj, hearing them trying to piece together everything that has happened in the last 72 hours.

I removed my helmet, shaking out my hair and examining the detritus all around us. There was no time to process any of the information that had been aching in my head ever since these multiversal threats had begun invading our home.

The only thing that had processed was making sure that my best friends— Ned, Mj, and Peter— were safe. I let out a breath of relief. With Ned and Mj in front of me, the end was in sight.

My hand still quivered as I adjusted my ear piece.

“Friday,” I said, “Where is Peter?”

“Peter is headed your way now, Miss Stark. Your energy levels are dropping—“

“They’re fine,” I said.

Peter swung toward us a moment later, landing in front of Ned and Mj. We all moved forward to embrace him tightly.

I blinked hard as my eyes prickled with tears of both relief and the heaviness of the past 72 hours settling on me. Peter was breathing heavily as he held us tightly.

“You’re okay?” His eyes scanned us one by one as he pulled out of the embrace.

“Yeah, we’re okay,” Mj breathed out with a smile.

Peter moved toward her, “You’re bleeding.”

She had a large cut stretching across the right side of her forehead, but shook her head, “I’m okay,” she said.

“You sure?” Peter questioned.

She nodded, reassuring, “Promise.”

“Okay,” Peter said, accepting her response with a gentle smile.

He turned to me next, grabbing my hand and pulling me close to him. “You’re exhausted,” he said.

I shook my head, squeezing his hand in mine, “I’m fine,” I said as I examined his face. He was bruised and had a large gash across his nose. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and it was hard to tell if his eyes were red from crying or exhaustion. “Peter…”

He shook his head and smiled weakly, “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

I didn’t believe him.

He pulled me into another tight embrace, stroking the back of my head with his hand and I held him just as tightly.

“You’re going to be okay,” he whispered into my neck, “I promise.” His voice sounded fatigued, but there was a certain edge there that I knew too well. There was something he wasn’t telling me.

“Peter,” I responded, “What’s going on?”

He pulled away hesitantly, eyebrows knitting together. Mj and Ned stood behind us, smiling tired, relieved smiles.

“We should go, right?” Mj said, looking between Peter and myself.

Peter stepped back, looking between the three of us as if trying to memorize our faces.

“Peter,” I shook my head, taking a step back, slowly understanding what was about to happen. “No.”

“What?” Ned asked, confused.

“You’re—“ Peter hesitated, looking between us again before speaking. “You’re gonna forget who I am,” his voice broke.

Ned and Mj blinked back at him, trying to understand what he was saying.

“What?” Ned asked again.

Mj shook her head, “What are you talking about?”

I said nothing. My hands started to shake again.

Peter looked directly to me. “It’s okay,” he said desperately, “I’m gonna come and find you, and I’ll explain everything,” he paused, “And I’ll make you remember me… it’ll be like none of this ever happened… okay?”

“But what if that doesn’t work?” Mj asked, her voice shaking.

“What if we can’t remember you?” Ned asked, “I don’t want to do that.”

“Can’t we come up with a plan or something?” Mj pleaded, looking at me desperately for an answer, “There’s always something we can do, right y/n?”

Peter shook his head, averting his eyes from all of us. “There’s nothing we can do,” he said, “…but it’ll be okay.”

None of us spoke for a moment. All of our eyes blurred with tears, throats aching from holding back desperate sorrow.

Ned spoke first, voice quiet, “Promise,” he said, “You’ll come find us.”

Peter nodded, “Promise.”

He took one step toward Ned, instinctively beginning their handshake. Ned pulled Peter into a tight hug, begging him again to come find us.

Memories started flooding my mind. The day that Ned first found out about Peter— the day that Peter brought Ned to my house for the first time and they spent hours explaining Star Wars to me— the night of our first party— the night of the homecoming dance where we fought the Vulture together. It was too much.

I stepped away, turning my back fully to the scene. This couldn’t be happening. I wouldn’t allow it. I was my father’s daughter. He would never have let this happen without putting up a hell of a fight.

“Friday,” I said, “What can I do to minimize the effects of a spell that erases memories?”

“I’m sorry Miss Stark, but nothing prevents a spell like this from taking effect on the mind of a mortal.”

“There has to be something,” I muttered, shaking my head, “Call Strange.”

“It appears that Stephen Strange is not currently available.”

“Shit,” I wracked my brain for alternatives. There had to be something. Anything.

“Y/n,” Peter’s voice broke through my thoughts.

I turned to him, tapping my ear piece, “Not now, Peter.”

Tears were streaming down Peter’s face now. “Y/n, please.”

“No!” I ripped out my ear piece. “I won’t forget you. I can’t, Peter. Just let me figure out what I can do.”

The look on Peter’s face broke me.

Ned and Mj had stepped away, but were still observing the scene with their own tears falling.

“Peter, I can’t,” I sobbed, stepping toward him and falling into his arms. “I can’t.”

He held me tightly. “It’s going to be okay, you’re going to be okay.”

“Peter. If you don’t come and find me I will hurt you.” I mumbled into his neck.

“I know, baby,” he said into my neck, tears soaking into my hair. “I promise I’ll find you.”

“I can’t lose you, too,” I pulled away and looked him in the eye, “You’re my best friend.”

He held my hand in his, nodding, “You’re mine too.”

My mind flashed back to one specific day, years ago. Peter had come on our trip to Germany to fight against people that I had always thought of as my family. If it weren’t for my father’s demands, I never would have wanted to fight them at all.

Peter and I were good friends before that, but after that trip we were completely inseparable. Every new day that I spent with my best friend made me feel increasingly at peace in a way that I hadn’t known to exist before then.

It felt like a part of me that had always been missing was finally found.

My father was not a fan of how much time we were spending together, but he recognized the positive change in me before I did.

We were in my room on a late Summer evening— hiding from my father’s many lectures about teenagers and the importance of keeping doors open— and we were playing around with a new feature on my suit, when I had received a notification from Friday that Steve was officially M.I.A.

School was starting in a week, and I had spent so much time worried about being prepared for the first day that I hadn’t allowed myself to consider Steve’s whereabouts. It also hurt too much to think about, but I wouldn’t admit that.

I suppose that my disappointment was showing on my face, because Peter noticed. He always did.

“You okay?” He asked, fidgeting with a piece of my helmet that rested on my desk in front of him.

I nodded, “Yeah, I’m good.”

We were both quiet for a moment, before he set down my helmet and moved across the room to sit on the edge of my bed.

“Come here,” he said, patting the space next to him.

“I’m fine,” I argued, but took my seat next to him anyways.

Peter took my hand gently in his, rubbing his thumb lightly over the back of it. “I can tell that all of this is really bothering you. And I understand why.”

I wasn’t surprised that he understood. Peter always had a way of knowing my thoughts before I said them out loud.

I nodded, unsure how to vocalize the way that I was feeling.

“It must be really hard,” he continued, “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Hesitating for a moment, I sighed before finally speaking. “I just don’t understand it. We were a team. We’ve been through everything together. Steve is my family. And he just left.”

Peter nodded at me to continue.

“He didn’t even say goodbye to me.”

Peter nodded again.

“It sucks,” I said, “But I’ll be okay.”

He squeezed my hand, “Yeah, you will. And he will be back. You know that.”

I nodded, “I know.”

He smiled at me, eyes brightening.

“What?” I asked.

He smiled, eyes crinkling.

“May wanted to try some new Thai restaurant around the corner from my place tonight, would you maybe wanna come?” Peter asked, “Ya know, to take your mind off of things?”

I smiled, nodding, “Absolutely.”

He smiled, pulling out his phone, “Awesome, I’ll let her know.”

He started typing, but then paused and set his phone back down. He reached out for my hand again.

“You know you’re my best friend,” he said, “right?”

I smiled, squeezing his hand in mine with one hand and ruffling his hair with the other. “You’re mine, too, you dork.”

He smiled a goofy smile, reaching up to fix his hair. He then picked his phone back up and resumed typing to May.

“Okay,” he said, “You’ll come to dinner with us,” he paused, “And then…”

I rolled my eyes, knowing what he was going to say. I pushed his shoulder gently, “Yes, I’ll sleep over, weirdo.”

He pumped his fist in the air in mock victory.

Those memories felt so distant now, but I held onto them tightly, wondering if I would ever have them again.

Tears were uncontrollably flowing from my eyes now, and wiping them away grew pointless.

“It’s going to be okay, y/n,” Peter said, now holding my face in his hands. I had never seen that look on his face before. It was devestatingly, tragically, purely heartbreaking.

I nodded, but I didn’t believe it.

A loud noise shook the ground, and I knew we didn’t have much time.

“Peter,” I whispered through tears, “I—“

He pressed his forehead to mine, “I know.”

“No,” I shook my head desperately, “You don’t. You don’t know.” I cried, “I never told you.”

His eyes were devestatingly filled with a mix of despair and desperation.

“Peter—,” another boom shook the ground beneath us.

“I know,” he told me, “Me too.”

I opened my mouth, ready to say more, but the space was closed between us before I could speak— and Peter’s lips met mine in a salty kiss that said everything that I’d been wanting to say for years.

He pulled me close by my waist, and kissed me with so much passion and desperation that I was sure that this was a kiss that would never be forgotten in a million years.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss. I wasn’t ready to let go yet.

Peter Parker was the love of my life. We were never together, not in that way. Not really. But we didn’t have to be. He was my best friend. He was my person. He was more myself than I was.

He pulled away, pressing his forehead to mine again.

“I’ll see you soon.”

—

There was a magnificent chill in the air, the kind that only comes when snow will certainly begin to fall soon. It had been a long autumn this year, but the winter holidays were approaching and I had just received a piece of great news to share.

Happy drove me through the cold streets of New York, occasionally shouting at bikers who strayed from the bike lane.

“You know, I’m really proud of you, kid,” he told me, glancing at me through the rear view mirror.

I smiled, looking down at the envelope in my hands.

“Thanks, Happy.”

“You know—,” he started, pausing to clear his throat, “Your dad would have been really proud, too.”

Nodding, I looked out of the window and started fidgeting with the necklace that my father had made for me. I hadn’t taken it off since the funeral. It felt a little bit ridiculous to wear nanotech every day, but it reminded me of him. It felt like a part of him was still with me

We pulled up outside of the coffee shop that Mj had been working at. A light snow had just begun to fall over the city.

“You sure this is the right place?” Happy confirmed.

“Yep,” I said, unbuckling my seat belt.

Happy smiled, turning around to face me. “This place reminds me of that donut shop that you kids used to make me take you to in Brooklyn that always had the burnt coffee.”

I smiled at the memory, but my eyebrows knit together, “You kids?” I asked.

Happy paused for a moment, a look of confusion covering his features as well. “I meant you…” he said, “I’m not sure why I said that,” he shook his head, “It has been a long day.”

I smiled, nodding. “Do you want to come in?”

Happy shook his head, “No, you go spend time with your friends. I have an errand to run.”

As I was opening the door to get out, Happy stopped me, “Hey kid, get me a frosted donut, will you?”

I laughed, “Of course. Sprinkles?”

Happy considered this for a moment, “The red white and blue ones, if they have any. If not, then just get whatever.”

When I got into the coffee shop, Mj was talking to one of her regulars in the corner. I took a seat at the counter and pulled out my letter.

Ned arrived just minutes later, smiling and coming over to me.

Mj smiled at us, signaling that she would come hang out with us after she helped a customer.

“You got in?” Ned asked, seeing my letter in hand.

“I got in!” I replied, smiling so wide I felt like the muscles in my face might cramp.

Mj heard the commotion and turned to see the letter in my hand. Her eyes lit up, and she grabbed two donuts.

She stepped up to us, placing the donuts in front of us and said, “Two donuts for my fellow engineers.”

“Wait, what?” Ned asked, which elicited a laugh from me.

Mj rolled her eyes, “MIT. They’re the engineers. That’s the mascot.”

“Ohhh,” Ned replied, “Right, I should probably know that.”

“Look at you with your school spirit!” I said, smirking at my normally unenthusiastic friend.

“If you tell anybody, I will deny it,” Mj said stiffly, walking away to help a customer again.

I looked up, seeing a boy— probably close to our age— staring directly at Ned and myself. I nudged Ned’s elbow.

“That guy is staring at us.”

Ned looked up for a moment and shrugged his shoulders, “He was probably a fan of your dad. Don’t people stare at you like, all the time?”

I nodded, “Yeah, I guess you’re probably right.”

Mj handed the boy his coffee and I could see him saying something to her from across the room.

“Can you believe that Mj is actually excited about something?” Ned asked, breaking my stare.

I laughed, “I know, it’s kinda of weird to see.”

“It is very weird to see,” Ned replied, “She’s always so dark and negative.”

“It’s nice,” I said, as Mj started walking back over to us. The bell of the door rang and I saw the boy walking out after glancing at us one more time.

“That guy was weird,” Mj said, leaning her forearms onto the counter dividing us.

Frowning, I said, “I don’t know how you deal with the general public all of the time. You’re brave for that.”

Mj shrugged, “Not all of us have Stark inheritances to get us through college.”

“Touché.”

—

2 years later

—

Sophomore year at MIT was halfway an incredible, magical experience filled with connection, parties, and friends. It was also halfway a terrible nightmare that consisted of deadlines, exams, more exams, headaches, and hangovers. Sometimes all at the same time.

I loved MIT, I really did. But fall break had just ended the day before and I would have thrown my entire academic career away if it meant I could spend one more week in upstate New York with Pepper and Morgan.

My apartment in the city was a dream. My dad had purchased it years ago when I first started showing interest in MIT, and Pepper gave me the keys when I graduated high school. It’s a two bedroom apartment with high ceilings, Friday (of course) built into an integrative system, and a beautiful view of the campus. And yet, it was terribly lonely.

My father must have purchased it with the assumption that I would have a roommate, but Mj and Ned both opted for dorm living. They said it would be easier to meet people that way.

Spending that week with Morgan and Pepper was the first time that I’d felt truly at home in a long time.

As a result of my treacherous loneliness, I impulsively invited everyone that I knew at MIT to join me for an end-of-fall-break shindig at my apartment that evening.

That is how my apartment ended up being filled with more college kids than I could count on a random Sunday night. That is also how I ended up tipsy and slouched against Mj’s shoulder, half engaging in a round of King’s Cup.

“You three really have known each other since high school?” A girl named Eileen, who was in my physics class, asked me.

“Yep,” I nodded, pointing at Ned, “I’ve known him since middle school.”

“And you’re still friends?” She asked, “That is a major accomplishment.”

Ned smiled brightly, “I think so, too.”

“We’re lucky,” Mj said. Which made a silly smile form on my face, because that is the most affection that Mj ever shows.

“How did you meet?” A boy from Ned’s dorm building asked. I was pretty sure his name was Trevor.

Ned and I locked eyes, grinning, “Well, we were sitting in class one day,” Ned began, “And y/n overheard me talking about my new Lego set, so I invited her to come over and build it with me,” he shrugged, “So yeah, we’ve pretty much been best friends ever since.”

I frowned, sitting up off of Mj’s shoulder. My head felt fuzzy. “No, that’s not how we met.”

Ned furrowed his eyebrows, looking confused, “What?”

“You were a big fan of the Avengers, so when you found out who my dad was you totally freaked,” I said, smiling at the memory, “Then you followed me around at school until I finally let you see my suit. Then we became real friends after that.”

Ned frowned, looking concerned, “That is not how I remember it.”

Mj looked between us, frowning as well, “I thought that you two became friends because you were on the same dodgeball team in gym class and you both wanted to talk for the entire period instead of participating.”

Ned and I both looked at each other and laughed.

“No,” we both said.

Mj looked at us skeptically, like we were pranking her.

“Seriously?” She asked, “I could’ve sworn that was what happened.”

We both shook our heads.

“No,” I said, “That’s so randomly specific. But that’s definitely not it.”

“Well,” Trevor interjected, “Then how did you two meet Mj?”

I thought for a moment, but it suddenly felt like I was a lot more drunk than I was. I waited for my friends to speak.

Ned started first, “She was always kind of around, but in our first year of high school she started sitting with us at lunch.”

I nodded, feeling relieved as the memories returned to me clearly. “That’s right, then we really became close friends after the homecoming dance that year.”

Mj and Ned nodded, agreeing with me.

“That night was crazy,” I said, laughing.

“What happened?” Eileen asked.

Ned and Mj both paused. So did I.

I wracked my brain for why I said that. For why I remembered having intense, chaotic feelings that night. I came up short. Nothing was surfacing. I only remembered getting ready, dancing with friends, and returning home.

“Oh,” I shook my head, “I guess it was pretty normal, actually.”

The game resumed, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Maybe I had drank too much.

Only I knew that I hadn’t drank that much, and that this wasn’t the first time that I had slight memory lapses.

Mj leaned close to me so that only I could hear her words, and said, “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “Yeah, I’m fine. I think I’m just tired.”

“You sure?” She asked.

I nodded again, “Yeah, I think I’m actually going to go get a glass of water.”

She looked at me for a moment, visibly concerned, but didn’t push.

Just as I was getting up, my phone started ringing. I groaned.

“Again?” Mj asked.

I declined the call, and it immediately started ringing again.

“Answer it!” Ned said, excited.

Declining the call again, I shook my head. “No chance. I’m not joining their bullshit New Avengers. I don’t have time for that.”

Ned sighed, shaking his head, “That’s so cool though. I wish they would call me.”

Mj snorted, “What would the Avengers need you for? You don’t have super powers.”

Ned shook his head again, sitting up straight, “No, but maybe I could be their guy-in-the-chair or something.”

“What the hell is that?” Mj said, laughing.

My head throbbed, and I felt like someone had just knocked the wind out of me, but I couldn’t figure out why. I snuck off mid-conversation and headed to my room.

I changed into pajamas and sat down for a moment. I must have drank more than I thought, or maybe it was an anxiety attack, or some twisted combination of the two. I knew that my dad struggled with anxiety, so it would make sense if that had been passed down to me. Surely school had stressed me out to a breaking point without my realization.

I just needed to clear my head. That was all.

Putting in a pair of headphones, I turned on my AC/DC Classics playlist and locked my door. I sat at my desk and started messing around with new suit designs.

The next time that I looked at the time it was nearly 3 o’clock in the morning, and the living room sounded quiet. I got up from my desk with the intention of getting a glass of water and telling any stragglers to hit the road, but stopped in my tracks when I heard something moving outside of my window.

I saw a quick flash of something that I couldn’t quite make out, and when I got close to the window there was nothing there.

“Friday?” I spoke.

“Good morning, Miss Stark.”

“Call Pepper.”

“Miss Stark, it is quite early in the morning. Could I advise—“

“Call. Pepper.”

“Dialing Pepper Stark.”

It rang for only a moment before the line picked up.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Pepper said upon pick up.

“Pepper,” I said shakily, “I think I’m losing it.”

I heard rustling, then Pepper spoke again, “What’s going on, honey?”

Taking a seat on my bed, I started, “Something is not right. First, I couldn’t remember how I met Ned. And I had this weird feeling tonight like— like I had a memory of something that was just completely wrong.” I continued, “And Pep, this isn’t new. This has been happening for months. I have all of these weird feelings associated with different memories and these feelings aren’t correlated by any means to these events—”

“Hey, slow down,” Pepper said.

“Then just now I swear I just saw something outside of my window. But then I looked, and there’s nothing there! And I’m so homesick, Pep. I am so homesick.”

“Hey, you’re okay, just breathe for a second,” she told me.

I took a deep breath, “I think something is wrong with me,” I said.

“Nothing is wrong with you, honey.” Pepper said calmly, “This is a crazy time in your life. You’re living in a new environment, with new people, you have a lot on your shoulders right now. And I know that the ‘New Avengers’ nonsense hasn’t been helping your stress.”

Letting out a sigh, I let her continue.

“Sweetheart, you know that you don’t have to live in that apartment if you don’t want to. Tony wanted you to have it, but more than anything he wanted you to be happy. Why don’t you see if Mj needs a roommate for next year?” she asked.

I nodded, thinking over this for a long moment, “Yeah, yeah. That’s a good idea. I’ve been alone too much lately.”

“And,” Pepper added, “I don’t want to nag, but you know that you have picked up on your fathers insomniac tendencies, and you know that that doesn’t help.”

“I know,” I sighed, “You’re right. I should go to sleep. I’m sorry for calling so late.”

“No, no,” she said, “Call me any time. I’m always here for you.”

“Thank you, Pep,” I smiled.

“And,” I could hear her smiling through the phone, “You know that Happy will drive all the way there to pick you up at any point, if you need to come home.”

I laughed, “I know.”

“Okay, get some sleep now. Call me tomorrow to let me know how you’re feeling.”

“Okay, goodnight,” I said, realizing just how exhausted I was, “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Pepper said, and then I heard the call end.

—

“Hey y/n, are you going to Trevor’s holiday party this weekend?” Ned asked me, looking at me from across the table in our private study room in the library.

“I’m not sure yet,” I said, “Remind me when it is?”

“It’s this Friday,” he replied.

I shook my head, “I have an appointment at home on Friday, remember?”

“An appointment?” Mj asked, “What kind of appointment?”

I looked at them both, unsure if I should tell them the full truth about why I’m leaving to go back home early for winter break.

Ned gasped, “Oh my gosh, it’s Avengers business, isn’t it?”

“Ned—“

“Are you joining the New Avengers?” He asked, “Please tell me you finally accepted their invitation.”

I rolled my eyes, “That’s not what it’s for.”

“Dang it,” Ned said, visibly disappointed.

“You’re really going to miss the last party of the semester?” Mj asked, “That’s unlike you.”

I shrug, tapping my pencil on my notebook, “I can’t really miss this appointment.”

Ned and Mj both stared at me for a whole minute.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” Mj said.

To tell the truth, I didn’t have an appointment in New York on Friday. But that was the soonest that I could get back home without missing any of my final exams, and I needed to get back as soon as possible.

Over the past few months, things have been weird. Being the daughter of Tony Stark and living in New York City means that things are naturally weird— just by default. Recently, however, things have been weird on a different level.

It felt like my brain had been placed into a blender and came out with everything in the wrong places.

A month ago, Ned brought up the possibility of studying abroad together— which inevitably made us recall our high school trip to Europe.

Mj and Ned seemed to have similar recollections of the trip, but there were some pieces that I couldn’t figure out. I had some really negative feelings toward Nick Fury, and I remembered feeling betrayed, but I couldn’t even recall interacting with Fury on the entire trip.

Ned remembers Nick Fury bombarding my shared hotel room with Mj, and taking me to some top secret headquarters. Mj doesn’t remember ever meeting Nick Fury, but said that she was out of the room that day.

I had no memory of Nick Fury being in my room.

It was easy to play it off that I was just tired, or had a bad memory, but inside I was beginning to panic.

After that, I started bringing up random memories that I had from our time in high school to see what else I had forgotten. This was incredibly difficult— because ninety percent of our memories are identical— but there were some memories that my friends had that were so far off from my own that it worried me.

I was starting to wonder if something was really wrong with me.

For a while— longer than I would like to admit— I was worried that someone had taken my friends and these were posers who were pretending to be my Ned and Mj. Or, perhaps, Loki had really faked his death again, come back, and infiltrated my inner circle.

Eventually, I concluded that it was my own memory that seemed to differ. It confused me immensely. I had too many associations that made absolutely no sense. Feelings that didn’t line up.

One that I kept returning to was the sense of security that I felt after I returned from Germany when my father and Steve had been fighting. There was no reason that I should have felt that way, and I could not explain it.

I only remembered being alone in my room for days, missing Steve, and recovering from the battle. There was nothing else there. Nothing that should have made me feel secure, but the feeling was so strongly associated with the memory and it made no sense.

I decided that I should really see a doctor as soon as I could, so Happy would be picking me up first thing on Friday morning to drive me back to New York.

—

“Strange?” I called, walking through the absurdly large doors of 177A Bleeker Street.

“Miss Stark, what a surprise,” a voice approached me.

“Hi, Wong,” I said, addressing the man in front of me, “Is Strange here?”

Wong looked displeased that I interrupted their Friday afternoon of doing what appeared to be absolutely nothing.

“Can I help you?” He asked me.

“Ah,” I heard a voice coming from the top of the stairs, and Stephen Strange descended, “Y/n Stark, what can I do for you?”

I sighed, “This is going to sound crazy.”

Strange reached the bottom of the stairs, and rolled his eyes at me. We both knew he’d seen enough that nothing would sound crazy at this point.

“I think I’m losing it,” I started, “I don’t know if I’m, like, possessed, or maybe I’m being mind controlled, or maybe I have some sort of early onset—“

Strange held a hand out to me to slow down.

“Let’s go talk in my office,” he said, beginning to ascend the stairs without waiting for me.

Strange’s office was… strange. I immediately decided that I didn’t want to stay in the Sanctum Sanctorum for any longer than necessary. The place not only gave me the creeps, but for some reason gave me some dark feeling of despair that I couldn’t quite explain.

I was seated on a large leather couch across from a cedar desk which Stephen was sat behind. I gazed around the room, wondering if my father had ever been here.

“So, Stark,” Strange started, folding his hands on his desk, “Tell me what has been happening.”

I went into immense detail recounting the memory lapses and disagreements of details from the first time that it happened, until the most recent. I described the difference of my recollections of my feelings and my recollections of events, and how I felt like I’ve been losing my mind.

Even after I finished speaking, Stephen sat for a while, considering all of the information.

“Alright.” He said, eventually, “Don’t panic, but it does sound like your memories may have been tampered with.”

“Seriously?!” I asked, “I knew it!”

He frowned at me.

“Everyone was telling me that it was just the stress from school,” I explained.

He nodded, skeptical. “Well, there is only one way to tell, but I haven’t done that spell in years.”

“Do it,” I said, eagerly.

He paused for a moment, looking pensively into the distance. “I can check if your mind has been tampered with, but I can’t guarantee any other outcomes.”

“Whatever,” I said, eagerly, “I need to know.”

He nodded, “You might have a bit of a headache after.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Alright,” he said, raising his hands in front of him, “Close your eyes.”

After what felt like five minutes, I could hear Stephen walking around the room.

“Huh,” I heard.

“Can I open my eyes now?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, “Sorry, you could’ve done that a while ago.”

“Strange,” I warned. “What did you find?”

I looked around the room, and a large, golden outline of what appeared to be my brain was taking up the space between us. My neurons were visibly firing, and there were what looked like small rings of gold dotting certain parts of my brain.

Strange looked thoughtfully at my brain, then sighed. “I can confirm that your memories have been tampered with, but I don’t advise trying to retrieve them. Nor will I perform any spell in attempt retrieve them.”

“What?” I asked, “Why? What is it?”

Stephen sighed again, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and index fingers. “A certain type of magic was used here, and this magic wouldn’t have been used lightly. There is no way to know what might happen if we remove these blocks in your memories, or try to retrieve the true versions of the tampered ones.”

“And that means…” I encouraged him to continue.

“Whatever happened here, it was for the best.” He waved his hand and the image of my brain went through my head and disappeared.

“Ow!” I brought my palm to my head, as a deep ache began to spread.

“I told you,” Strange said, moving to sit back at his desk.

“What kind of magic was used?” I asked, rubbing my palm to my forehead.

He stares at me for a long moment, before sighing and saying, “It looked like mine.”

“Stephen,” I said.

“I know,” he held his hands up in defense. “I don’t remember doing it, but that isn’t a spell that I would cast unless… say… there was going to be a mass destruction of worlds.”

“Stephen, what the hell are you talking about?” I stood, still clutching my head to hover over his desk.

“All I’m saying,” Stephen said, “Is that whatever spell did this to you, it was entirely necessary, and the undoing of it could potentially cause mass destruction.”

“You’re kidding,” I’m sure I felt angry, but the ache of my head was stronger than the anger that I felt in that moment.

“I’m afraid not, kid,” he said, “Now, I have a very important meeting to attend, so go get an aspirin from Wong and head back home.”

I shook my head, “But, what if I’m forgetting something really important. Or someone.”

Stephen shook his head, “Whatever it is, it’s for the best.”

“So there’s nothing we can do?” I asked.

“I suppose,” he started, “That if your brain has already started becoming aware of some of these anomalies, that over time some of these memories might start to resurface…”

I nodded.

“But that would be incredibly rare. The odds are almost zero. And it is doubtful that you will ever fully retrieve all of them. And I strongly encourage you not to try retrieving them.”

—

After my meeting with Strange, and a long nap with ice packs and aspirin, I was finally starting to feel somewhat normal again.

Although I hated knowing that there might have been a large part of my life that I’d forgotten, I was back at home— and that mattered more. New York City would always be my home. It was where I lived with my father, and where I found my best friends. New York was my city.

Most of the people that I had considered family were either off planet, back in the early 1900’s, or no longer alive. Then of course there was the monstrosity of my childhood home that was now called the ‘Avengers Tower’ that loomed over the streets of New York, but it was still was home.

The streets of New York were grey with snow, ash, and tire marks. There were people shouting, smoking, singing, eating, drinking, crying— anything you could imagine— but I couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to live anywhere else in the world.

That morning, I had gone for a walk through the busy city streets to see the Christmas tree before meeting Ned and Mj at a diner for breakfast. They had gotten back to New York several days after I did.

The diner smelled like hot coffee, eggs, and cold air. Stepping inside from the frigid temperatures felt like stepping into a sauna, until you remove the many outer layers required to walk on a day like that.

After a long monologue where Ned debriefed everything that happened at the party that I missed, I finally got a chance to let him know that my appointment was in fact with Stephen Strange.

“You met with Doctor Strange?” Ned asked loudly, eyes wide.

“Shhh!” Mj nudged him, “This could be like, top secret Avenger stuff.”

They both leaned in, close enough that I could speak without raising my voice.

“Is he a part of the New Avengers too?” Ned asked in a hushed tone, “Or are you trying to recruit him for the New Avengers?”

I laughed, taking a sip of my coffee and shaking my head, “Nothing like that.”

Ned looked at me, desperate for details. Although Mj seemed relaxed, I could tell that she was also curious.

“It was just a meeting,” I said, “Catching up with an old friend.”

Mj snorted, “And that’s why you left school early for an ‘appointment’?”

I debated with myself for a moment, deciding whether or not I should tell them. After all of those months, it certainly would feel nice to take the weight off of my chest. Especially to people that I trusted.

I shifted in my seat, resigned, “Fine,” I said, “Want to know the truth?”

“Obviously!” Ned said, leaning in even more.

I looked at Mj, who nodded as well.

“Okay,” I hesitated, “I thought that someone was maybe infiltrating my mind, or had in the past, so I went to him to see if he could tell me anything.”

Mj choked on her coffee. Ned dropped his utensils.

“How can you say that so casually?” Ned asked, “Do you know how cool that is? Someone might have been doing mind control on you?”

Mj regained her composure after taking a long sip of water and smacked Ned in the arm, “That’s totally not cool. Dude, are you, like, are you okay?”

I nodded, “All is well.”

They both narrowed their eyes at me.

“Soooo,” Ned said, dragging the word.

“So, what?” I asked.

“Was someone?” He asked, “Controlling your mind?”

I rolled my head back, taking another sip of coffee before saying, “It seems that someone may have tampered with my memories. But that’s all I can say. And I’m okay.”

They both looked at me, mouths agape.

After a moment passed, Mj nodded. “Well, shit. Glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah,” Ned agreed, “Me too.”

The rest of breakfast was filled with making many plans for the holidays, discussing final grades, and the dreadful realization of how quickly school was approaching again.

“What should we do for New Year’s?” Mj asked toward the end of the meal.

“Hmmm,” I said, “I heard about this cool new exclusive club in the Upper East Side.”

“Sounds pretentious,” she shrugged, “but I have nothing better to do,” Mj said.

“I’m in,” Ned said, “As long as you can get us in.”

I grinned, “I’m a Stark. Of course I can get you in.”

—

New Year’s Eve approached quickly. Pepper and Morgan had come to stay with me in our townhouse in the city for a couple of days. Happy even stopped in to have dinner with me, which was a welcomed surprise.

Although, he did tell me that his phone had been ringing off the hook with calls from the New Avengers trying to recruit me. He blocked the numbers each time a call came in, but as he said, ‘they kept coming back like telemarketers’.

New Year’s Eve was always wild in the city. It was packed with tourists and people who should be charged with public intoxication (and sometimes if you’re unlucky, public indecency).

Thankfully, exclusive clubs were more difficult to get into and therefore significantly less crowded than most places.

Ned and Mj had come to my place earlier in the evening to eat an excellent dinner of take out pizza and fireball shooters. The plan was to just get ready together, but we may have ended up getting a little tipsy in the process.

Pepper had brought one of her vintage dresses for me when she came to visit. It was black with silver sequins, and I had to say it was pretty perfect for the occasion.

I was pretty sure that Pepper was still concerned about my mental health, and was trying to overcompensate. I appreciated it, of course, but truly had been feeling a lot better and was mildly offended that she did not perceive that.

We bypassed the line outside of the club— privileges of being a Stark— and the three of us slipped into the club just before ten o’clock.

There were several floors— one with a DJ and an awesome dance floor, one with a real bar and tables and chairs, and one with social club seating, dim lighting, and purple velvet couches— but by around eleven-thirty the floors all seemed to blend together.

We had already been tipsy from the pregame, and after a couple of Cosmopolitans I was feeling loose. Ned and I spent nearly an hour on the dance floor before Mj finally dragged us off to go upstairs.

Mj never got drunk, but I could tell by her smile that she was feeling it more than usual. She led us to the floor with velvet couches and chandeliers, and we all sat in a booth in the corner of the crowded room.

“This was a good call,” Mj said, after a waiter came around to take our drink orders.

“What?” I asked, smiling.

“This club,” she said, “It has a cool vibe.”

Ned nodded, smiling big, “We have got to come back here. I need more time on that dance floor.”

“Totally,” I said.

It wasn’t long before midnight that our group expanded. Another group had merged with ours, bonding over going to high school in the city. Mj was deep in conversation with a girl about the current economic state of the city, and Ned was venting about the newer Star Wars movies to one of the boys in the group.

Some guy named Evan was sitting way to close to me, talking my ear off about the stock market and finances, and occasionally reaching out to fiddle with the sequins on my dress. He was supposedly majoring in finance.

I didn’t really care.

When midnight came around, cosmo in hand, I stood near the closest tv with my friends and the others as we watched the count down to the new year. People kissed, celebrated, threw money in the air. By this point, I was definitely well past sober, but not far gone enough to do anything stupid.

Evan certainly had other ideas. At midnight, he pressed a big kiss on my cheek.

I went into the bathroom afterwards to disinfect my cheek.

Shortly after the ball dropped, the whole group migrated outside. Some were leaving, some smoking, some looking for the nearest trash can. Music was blasting through the walls of the club, playing some song with a bass line loud enough to make the walls vibrate.

Mj, Ned, and I just wanted some fresh air but weren’t sure where the night would take us, yet.

“So,” Evan said, taking a long puff of his cigarette, “I swear I know you from somewhere.”

“No,” I replied, “I don’t think so.”

“Want a smoke?” He asked, grinning, holding what was left of his cigarette out to me.

I shook my head, “I don’t smoke.”

He started to say more, but got interrupted.

“Heyyyyy look who it is!” I heard a loud voice to my left, one that I had a distant memory of.

“What the hell?” Ned turned toward the voice.

“Here we go,” Mj rolled her eyes and angled her body away from us, hiding from the oncoming offender.

The person approached and came into view.

“FLASH?” I smiled wide, reaching out to embrace my old classmate.

He returned the gesture, clearly very inebriated, “Y/n freaking Stark! I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“Wait,” Evan cut in, “You’re y/n Stark?”

I glanced at him for a moment, unsurprised by his lack of awareness, then turned back to Flash.

“How have you been?” I asked.

“Amazing,” he said, “How’s MIT?”

I shrugged.

“Sorry,” Evan interrupted again, “Like y/n Stark. Daughter of Tony Stark?”

A light snow was beginning to fall and I shivered.

“Yep, that’s the one,” I replied, still facing Flash, whose phone had started ringing.

He held up a finger, mouthing ‘sorry’.

“Your dad is, like, awesome,” Evan said, his smoke breath aimed right toward me.

I scrunched my nose, “He was, I know.”

“Yes, I have the car,” Flash said into his phone, “No, I’ll be home soon. I thought you wouldn’t be home until tomorrow. Okay. Okay. Bye.”

He frowned, starting to head down the street and waving as he went, “I gotta go, but hit me up, Stark! You’ve got my number!”

“See ya Flash!” I called, turning back to my friends.

“You still think he’s the Spider-Man?” Mj asked Ned, interrupting his conversation with his new friend.

Ned shrugged, “Still working on that. The app is almost done, then we will hopefully be able to narrow it down more.”

Mj nodded, both of us knowing what he meant after many long discussions with Ned about his new spidey-tracker app that he was developing. He had become obsessed with Spider-Man, moreso since we moved away from New York.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Evan stepped in again.

“Yes?” I asked— annoyance evident— not turning to face him.

“So like, you fought with the Avengers?” He asked.

“Yep,” I nodded, not caring to elaborate. This guy was seriously killing my buzz.

“That’s so cool,” he said, “You know, when I was little I had a pair of Captain America Underoos. I was obsessed with Captain America. Do you think you could—”

My head suddenly felt really fuzzy, and I had to walk over to lean on the side of the building for support.

“Hey,” Mj said, following me, “You okay?”

I nodded, looking back to Evan. “What did you just say?” I asked.

“What?” He asked, “My Captain America Underoos? Those were awesome. I-“

I didn’t hear anything else after that. My head pounded, and I rested it against the cold, outside wall. Snow fell on my face, coating my lashes in light, white flakes.

Germany.

I closed my eyes tight. Germany. Germany. Germany.

Why was I thinking about Germany?

What the hell are Underoos, and what the hell do they have to do with Germany?

My head throbbed.

“Is she okay?”

“Hey, back up.”

“Is she having some sort of PTSD thing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Y/n?”

I opened my eyes, shaking my head and taking a deep breath in, but it felt like I was drowning.

“No,” I shook my head, stepping away from the wall, “Sorry, I’m okay.” I took another deep breath.

“Hey,” Mj said, standing in front of me, sheilding me with her body from the rest of the group, “What just happened?”

Breathe in. Breathe out. Germany.

I forced a laugh, “Sorry, I think I’m just drunk,” I said, managing my best smile.

Mj frowned, “Y/n.” She didn’t believe me.

I shook my head, “I’m fine. I’m gonna call Happy to come pick me up. Are you ready to go?” I asked her.

She stared at me.

“You ready to go, Ned?” I asked, calling around Mj’s shoulder.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” Ned replied, “That would be good.”

“I’m calling Happy,” I said, pulling out my phone.

“What,” Evan said, arrogantly pushing past Mj and wrapping an arm around me, “You’re not coming home with me?” He asked.

“No thanks,” I said, pushing his arm off of my shoulder, “I’m good.”

“Come on,” he said, “We can have your driver take us to my place. It’s on the Upper West Side and nobody’s home.”

“Hey man,” Ned cut in, “She’s not-“

“Hey man, she said no.” An unfamiliar voice cut through our group.

I searched for the source of the voice, but couldn’t find it from where I stood.

“What?” Evan stepped forward, seemingly also trying to find the speaker.

“She doesn’t want to go home with you.” The voice got closer, “I’d back off now if I were you.”

Evan clenched his jaw, looking at the speaker who was blocked from my view by Mj.

“And who the hell are you?” Evan said, stepping closer to the speaker.

“It doesn’t matter,” the voice said, “Back off.”

“Do you know him?” Evan turned to me.

I stepped out from behind Mj, and in front of me was a boy who looked to be about my age, with brown hair and a dark blue hoodie that almost looked familiar. Almost. I didn’t know him.

Germany.

I clutched my head, again. “Uh-“ I started.

“She doesn’t even know you, bro,” Evan said, “Mind your own—“

The boy shoved Evan. Evan shoved back.

“Hey!” Mj said, pulling Evan away with the help of Ned and another boy in the group.

“Stop it,” she said, glaring at the boy, “We’re good, we’ve got it from here, thanks.”

The boy shook his head. He turned hastily, walking down the side walk and away from the club. In the process, a small leather wallet fell out of his back pocket.

My feet moved before my brain caught up.

“Hey!” I called after the boy. He froze.

Mj called after me, “Y/n, what are you—“

I was already halfway down the block, wallet in hand.

“You dropped your wallet,” I said, catching up to him. I opened the wallet so I knew how to properly address him.

To my surprise— although the letters looked slightly blurred anyway in my current state— there was nothing in the wallet. No ID, no drivers license, no credit cards. Nada. The only identifier in the wallet was the monogrammed Benjamin F. Parker across the leather.

“Ben?” I asked, handing the wallet to the boy.

He nodded, “Yeah, yeah,” he sniffed, “Sorry.”

I looked up at him, now close enough to get a good view of his face. The boy was kind of cute.

He averted eye contact.

“Do I…” I started, “Sorry, do I know you?”

He shook his head, “No, sorry. No, you don’t.”

I nodded, “Well, thanks,” I gestured back toward my group, “For that.”

He finally looked into my eyes, “No problem.”

My head felt fuzzy.

“I’d better go,” I said, “I need to call Happy.”

He smiled, a real smile, “Yeah, go call Happy.”

I laughed, swaying a little bit to the side, “Sorry,” I said, realizing how ridiculous I must sound, “Happy is my driver. Well, actually he’s more of a friend. Kinda like an uncle situation really, but—“

The boy laughed.

“Sorry,” I said, “It doesn’t matter. But really, thanks for that.”

“No problem,” he said, the smile still resting gently on his lips.

I glanced back at my group— who were all motioning for me to come back, Ned specifically was staring at me with wide eyes mouthing ‘what are you doing?’—and back at the boy one more time.

“Are you sure I don’t know you?” I asked, “Did you go to Midtown?”

He shook his head, “No—uh—,” he said, clearing his throat, “No, I’m not from around here.”

“Oh,” I said, remembering his lack of licenses or identification. It’s uncommon to live anywhere other than a big city and not have a drivers license. “So, where are you from?”

“Uh,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, “It looks like your friends are waiting for you. You’d better get back.”

I frowned, but nodded, “Yeah. I’d better.”

When I returned to Ned and Mj, Evan and his posse had already departed.

“What the hell was that?” Ned asked.

I ignored him, pulling out my phone to call Happy.

“Who was that?” Mj followed up.

I shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“Really? It looked like you knew him,” Mj said.

“No clue,” I said, ending the conversation.

The ride home was quiet. I guessed my friends were a little shaken up from the events of the past hour, but I was busy trying to figure out who Ben Parker was, why he stepped in like he did, and why he didn’t carry any identification.

Was he a criminal? One of my dad’s old enemies that is now stalking me?

And why did the events from Germany keep playing in my head?

“You two staying at her place?” Happy asked us, looking in the reflection of the rear view mirror.

“Uh,” Ned said, eloquently.

“Is that still okay?” Mj asked.

I nodded, smiling at them, “Of course, nobody is there right now, so I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Okay,” Mj said hesitantly, “Yes, we are, sir,” she replied to Happy.

It didn’t take long for my friends to fall asleep. They stayed up chatting for a short time, sending me wary looks every time I spoke. It had been a long night for all of us.

However, I didn’t have plans to sleep that night. As soon as they both had knocked out in my living room, I headed down to the basement.

“Hey, Friday. Run a background check on Benjamin F. Parker.”

—

My phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Finally! I have been trying to get hold of you for months! Do you know how hard it is to track you down? It is like chasing baby mouse through field with tall grass. You are baby mouse.”

I sighed, kicking my feet up on my desk.

“I only answered because I need your help with something.”

“Ah, now you need my help?” The voice on the other end of the phone said, “I need your help for many months and you don’t return my calls. Now you need my help and expect me to help you?”

“Yes,” I said, “And you didn’t need my help, you were trying to get me to join your team.”

“Yes, but that would be helpful, no?”

“Yelena,” I breathed out, taking a sip of my coffee from my desk.

“Fine,” she said, “I will listen. But I will convince you to join our team. It is more fun than it looks.”

“No thanks, still not interested,” I said.

“Okay, I lie,” she admitted, “It is not very fun. Lots of very stupid men around me.”

“Alright,” I said, taking another sip of my coffee, “This was fun, but I’m gonna go.”

“Wait, wait,” Yelena stopped me, “Meet me at address. I send to your phone. You tell me your problem and I tell you about New Avengerz.”

I sighed, checking my phone for an address and ending the call.

Massaging my head, I reached out for my tylenol bottle that had taken residency on my desk. My headaches were getting worse, and random things were making my head go so fuzzy that I thought I might faint.

The night before, Happy had come over for dinner again. He asked me the simplest question— if I wanted Thai or Indian— and I had to go lay down for an hour. When he asked if I’d seen a doctor, I told him I had— which wasn’t technically a lie.

Surely, it was possible that these episodes were related to my stress levels or maybe some vitamin deficiency or something like that— but with my recent meeting with Dr. Strange, it seemed more likely that these episodes were residual effects of the memory tampering situation.

I wrapped my coat around me, concealing my face with a scarf and ventured out into the snowy streets of Manhattan. My breath made bursts of vapor appear in the air in front of me.

I passed by a corner store that I used to get coffee from in high school on days that I had big exams. The coffee was always slightly burnt, but it got the job done.

My head throbbed.

Entering the store, I pulled my scarf down from where it covered my face and enjoyed the temporary refuge from the weather. The shop looked nearly identical to how it did years ago. Flourescent lights that flickered from age, shelves of snacks and miscellaneous items, and brewed pots of burnt coffee.

As I filled a small cup with dark roast coffee, I felt eyes on me. I glanced to my left, and there stood the boy who told me his name was Ben Parker, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

I considered how to address him. My research had been inconclusive, but what I had found was that there was no Benjamin F. Parker documented to be living in any major city in the entire United States who was between the ages of 11 and 43. I could have been wrong, but he did not look like a child, nor a 43 year old man.

That meant that he had either lied about his name, was living somewhere that most certainly required a drivers license which he did not have, or there was always the possibility that he was from another planet— but I doubted that.

Either way, he could be a potential threat. I reached up instinctively to fidget with my necklace, and still felt his eyes on me.

“Hi, Ben,” I said, grabbing a lid for my coffee.

“Uh, h—“ he took a step toward me, “hey.”

I looked up and nodded to the flowers, “Those for the girlfriend?”

He looked at the flowers, then back at me, “No—uh— no,” he shook his head, “Not for a girlfriend. Definitely not a girlfriend.”

I nodded, walking around him and to the check out counter, “Hm.”

“They’re for my aunt,” he said, following me to the check out counter.

I smirked, “Close relationship with your aunt, huh?”

I heard his feet shuffling behind me.

“Uh,” he said, “I was close with her, yeah.”

Oh.

“Oh shit,” I said, placing my money on the counter and turned around, “I’m so sorry.”

He nodded, pursing his lips, “It’s okay. It was… I guess a few years ago now.”

I brought my palm to my forehead, trying to steady myself as I could feel my head starting to getting fuzzy.

“Hey,” the boy said, setting the flowers on the counter behind me, “You okay?”

I nodded, breathing deeply, “Yeah, sorry.”

The boy reached out and lightly grabbed my left hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb, “Hey, what just happened?”

A pain ached deep behind my eyes. I caught a quick glance of my hand in his.

Germany. May. Ben Parker. Germany.

I pulled my hand from his, blinking my eyes hard.

“I—uh—“ I grabbed my coffee, shaking my head, “I have a meeting to get to. I’m sorry about your aunt.”

I walked out of the store and didn’t look back.

—

“So you tell me you think someone is playing tricks with your mind,” Yelena said, tapping her head, “And you experience bad headache, dizziness—correct?”

“Yes,” I said, sinking deeper into the warm water.

Of all of the places that Yelena could have asked me to meet, this strange Russian bathhouse was not what I had in mind. That being said, it did feel nice. I was also pretty sure that nobody else in the entire facility spoke English, which made the whole ‘top-secret superhero anonymity’ stuff easier.

Yelena hummed, “Aaaand you come to me for help, why?”

I sighed, “You’ve been mind controlled, right?”

She tilted her head, “Yes, but that was more brain-wash situation, no spells from the Strange man. That is different.”

“How different can it be?” I asked.

“Oh, very different,” she said, “Mind control can be reversed, magic is not that easy. This is why I do not like wizards. See, in New Avengerz, we punch and shoot but we do not have wizards,” she pointed at me, raising her eyebrows.

“Still not interested,” I said.

“Come on, baby Stark,” Yelena threw her head back, “I am so sick of stupid man. You join and we can have,” she paused, “how you say… girl power.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that I let out, “No thanks. Can we get back to the real issue?”

“That is very real issue to me,” she muttered before saying, “Okay, tell me more.”

“That’s it,” I said, “I’ve told you everything that I know.”

“No,” she shook her head, “Tell me more. What happens just before your head get fuzzy? You sneeze, you get mad, you stand up too quickly?”

I thought for a moment, trying to recall what had happened most recently.

“Well,” I said, “This morning I was getting a coffee and ran into this boy that I kind of know— well, not really. But I guess he’s kind of an acquaintance. That’s a whole other situation. Anyway, he was buying flowers for his dead aunt and that seemed to kind of set it off? Then I keep getting these weird flashbacks to Germany for some reason, which might be totally unrelated but—“

“Wait,” Yelena said, holding up a hand to stop my rambling, “You get coffee on way here and you do not think to bring me one?”

I stared at her in disbelief.

“I joke, I joke,” she laughed to herself, “But next time, get me coffee. Yes?”

I rolled my eyes, “Yelena.”

“Yes, yes, back to your fuzzy brain,” she said, wiggling her hands next to her head when she said ‘fuzzy brain’,“This fuzzy brain could be grief related? You feel this after you hear about aunt that is dead? Possibly remind you of your father?”

I shook my head, “No, I know what grief feels like, and this isn’t it. It’s more like… I don’t know.”

“Baby Stark,” she said, “I am not therapist. You don’t know, I don’t know either.”

I sank under water, trying to think of any other related details that Yelena might actually be able to help me with. When I emerged, I wiped the water from my eyes, but she started speaking before I could.

“You know who all of this remind me of?” She questioned.

I shook my head.

“Bucky. The Winter Soldier,” she said, “he had memory wipe, brainwash, and then he turned good again.”

I hesitated. I never got a chance to learn much about Bucky’s past. My father never fully trusted him, but I knew that Steve did. I also knew that he did have most of his memories wiped by Hydra. I assumed that all of his memories had eventually been recovered— as he was working for the United States government— but I wasn’t sure what kind of background checks they had.

“How did he get his memories back?” I asked, humoring her idea.

She shrugged, “The Captain America, probably.”

I nodded.

“Soooo,” she said, waiting for me to understand what she was saying.

“So?” I asked, not following.

“So, maybe you remind yourself.”

“What?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes, “You are supposed to be genius, little Stark. What I am saying is that The Winter Soldier’s memories came back when he was reminded by Steve Rogers. You don’t know what memories have been taken, so maybe you remind yourself. Go to old places, see old friends— try to recover your own memory.”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “Okay. It’s worth a shot.”

Starting to push myself from the water, I thanked her for her help.

“But,” she stopped me, “If these headaches and fuzzy feelings do not go away, you should really go to doctor. Real doctor, not wizard doctor. That is not normal.”

I nodded, wrapping myself in a dry towel.

“And think about coming to New Avengerz!”

—

Sitting outside of Midtown School of Science & Technology on a snowy Thursday afternoon in early January felt slightly nostalgic, and cold. Very, very cold.

I had plans to return to MIT in just under a week— and I really should have been doing my pre-semester readings— but I thought that I would test out Yelena’s theory while I was still in the city. After all, most of my memories were from growing up in New York.

So far, I had accomplished nothing. On Tuesday, I walked past the new ‘Avengers Tower’. It only brought back memories from the alien invasion, and made me slightly sick to look at what my childhood home had become.

On Wednesday, I had gotten coffee with my old friend Betty, who mostly just talked about school and her awesome new internship with the Daily Bugle. No memories were jogged, no fuzzy feelings elicited.

I had been sitting outside of Midtown High for about an hour, reflecting on my time there. The only memories that I had were: ditching class, getting Natasha to write me fake school excuses, and thinking that the curriculum was far too easy.

I even remembered my locker combination from my freshman year— 30, 31, 75, 12. Which was totally unhelpful.

Wrapping my coat more tightly around me, I started heading home. The cold had given me a desperate need for an evening of soup, laying on the couch, and doing absolutely nothing.

The next day, I was planning on going for a walk through Queens. I remembered going to a sandwich shop there sometimes in high school when—

Something slammed into my side, hard enough to knock me against the brick building on my left. My head hit the wall, hard enough for it to disorient me long enough for my offender to get half a block ahead before I realized what had happened.

I looked down for my purse— still there. I instinctively reached to my neck. My necklace. My necklace was gone. My suit. My necklace that my dad made for me.

I took off after the hooded figure as quickly as I could with the throb in my head and the slight wobble in my gait. They were moving faster than me, but I was keeping up enough that they remained in sight.

There were not many others out on the streets. It was just starting to get dark, and the snow was a natural deterrent for city folk to roam the sidewalks.

“Hey!” I called out, following the figure down a darkened alleyway. They didn’t turn around, only continued into the darkness. I followed.

The farther into the alley that I got, the less visibility there was. The snow was falling harder, and the buildings hid the little daylight that remained— but I could still hear the offender’s footsteps in front of me, so I proceeded.

A weight pushed me into the brick wall, effectively stopping my pursuit. I couldn’t immediately see what had collided with me, but it didn’t take me long to figure out that my target’s footsteps had stopped, and that they were definitely not alone.

“Stark,” a deep voice said, far too close to my ear for my liking.

“I’d give that necklace back if I were you,” I said, spitting in the direction of the voice. An arm pushed against my chest, and I could feel a rope trap stretching around my body tightly, restraining all of my movement.

“Oh yeah?” Another voice, slightly higher and farther away, said.

I nodded, their faces slowly coming into focus. I knew those faces. I couldn’t recall their names, only that they had been on the Staten Island Ferry—years ago now— when I had been working to stop the Vulture.

They had been working to transport illegal weapons for him. They should have been arrested with everyone else.

“What do you want?” I asked them, looking between the two ugly faces. I guessed that the smaller one, a few feet away, was who I had been chasing.

“A little birdie told us that you were back in the city,” the smaller one said, stepping toward me, “So we thought that this would be the perfect opportunity to make things even.”

I rolled my eyes, “Here we go.”

The smaller one held up my necklace, dangling it just feet in front of me, “You and your father completely destroyed all of our plans. All of them,” he pushed the necklace into his pocket, “You think you can just get away with that with no repercussions?”

The larger one pressed his arm deeper into my chest— hard enough that my ribs had started to ache— and spoke, “Do you know what that cost us? Do you know how much that ruined our lives?” he growled, “Our children’s lives?”

“It was your choice to commit a major crime,” I scoffed, “You do know that, right?”

“Alright, that’s it—,” the little one said, clenching his jaw and reaching into his other pocket.

“And you were stealing from us in the first place!” I continued, letting out a maniacal laugh. Who did these guys think they were?

I caught a glimpse of a red shadow emerging from the shadows in the top right corner of my vision— silently moving behind my offenders. My heartbeat quickened, and I had to fight to suppress a smirk from covering my features.

“As if Stark Industries hasn’t stolen from all of us, countless times,” the bigger one said.

I could hear what sounded like the unsheathing of metal right by my left side. I tensed.

“Oh yeah?” I asked, buying time, “What have we stolen from you?”

The small one moved closer, so now he was in my face as well. “Just do it!” He said to the bigger one.

“You and your father think it’s okay to trash New York, destroy our homes, our work places, our streets,” the larger man said, ignoring the smaller one, “and guess who paid for all of that.”

I gritted my teeth, “The government?” I guessed, “SHEILD? The FBI? I don’t know, but this was like… five years ago? And you’re still mad?” I asked, “Not to mention, my father doesn’t think it’s okay to trash New York. If you haven’t noticed, he actually doesn’t think anything anymore. Because he’s dea—“

“You have a smart mouth,” the big one said hastily, “just like your father.”

Cold metal pressed against my chin. I shivered.

“I wonder what he would think now. Knowing that his own kid is having to pay for his crimes…” he said, dragging the weapon toward my lips.

“I know what he would be thinking right now,” I said, grinning despite the sharp pain and the feeling of warmth dripping down my chin.

“Yeah?” The little one asked, “and what’s that?”

“He would think that you’re totally done for,” I smirked.

“Wha—“ both men froze.

“Peter, now!” I shouted, wiggling out of the man’s grasp and falling to the side.

I worked quickly to undo the ropes covering my upper body as a blur of red and blue flashed in front of my eyes. Spider-Man restrained the men, webbing their weapons to the wall before I could even finish wiggling out of my ropes.

“Are you— gosh, y/n are you okay?” The hero asked, kneeling beside me and helping me remove the rest of the ropes.

I nodded, “I’ve been worse.”

“I know,” he let out a laugh, grabbing my arm gently and helping me stand. Sirens started to approach quickly, and soon red and blue lights filled the end of the alleyway.

“I called the chief of police,” Spider-Man said, gesturing to the lights.

My captors, now on the ground with their hands webbed behind their backs, groaned out a list of profanities that I dare not repeat.

“Good call,” I said, “Now, I just need my necklace, then I’ll leave you to it.”

“What?” The masked superhero replied, stepping toward me.

“Listen Spidey,” I said, “I’ve had a long day— a long week, actually, and you look like you’ve got it handled.”

“Y/n, hey— just wait a second,” he said, “You’re still bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” I said, bending down to pick up my necklace, which had fallen to the ground in the midst of the chaos. I looked around the alley, realizing that I’d lost something else.

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Spider-Man asked, stepping toward me again.

“I must have dropped my purse somewhere,” I sighed, rolling my shoulders back, “Hang on.”

I brought my necklace up to my neck, reaching around the back. Struggling with the clasp, I let out a groan. Spider-Man stood there, watching me battle with the metal.

“Hello?” I said, drawing attention to my issue.

“Huh?”

“A little help?” I turned, back facing him.

“Oh, y-yeah,” he said, and in a moment he was behind me.

Brushing my hair to the side, he took my necklace from my hands and easily clasped it together. My head got fuzzy. Really fuzzy.

“Woah,” I said, momentarily losing my balance and stumbling back into the hero.

“Are you okay?” He asked, turning me around and steadying me with a grip on my forearms.

“Who’s there?” A loud voice called from the end of the alleyway, and suddenly a bright flashlight was shining directly in my eyes— which was not helping my forming headache.

“Chief of police!” The voice announced, “Identify yourself!”

Arms wrapped around me.

“Hold on tight,” Spider-Man said.

“What— oh my gosh!” The air was pulled from my lungs as we careened upwards, shooting into the sky and leaving the crime scene far below.

“What are you doing?” I shouted.

He didn’t reply, but gripped onto my waist tightly with one arm as he swung us through the city. Although we were moving quickly, and I had just nearly escaped being robbed and severely injured, I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful the city looked from above.

The sun had almost fully sunk below the horizon at that point, and snow had dusted most of the streets, rooftops, and fire escapes. I could see Central Park in the distance.

Something about being in the air— seeing the city from above— was so peaceful. I had forgotten how it felt. I hadn’t really gone on patrol in years. Not since… well, I actually wasn’t sure. My head felt fuzzy again and I blinked hard.

I thought back on my conversation with Yelena— mentally keeping track of what has happened before these episodes. The mismatched memories. Underoos. That boy’s aunt. The necklace. Now, being up above the city. None of it seemed to correlate in any sort of comprendable way.

We landed lightly on a rooftop that I didn’t recognize, just outside of Queens.

“Don’t you have to, like, give a report to the Chief of Police?” I asked, rolling my shoulders and shaking out my limbs.

Spider-Man stood still, breathing heavy.

“Are you okay?” I asked, subconsciously reaching up with the back of my hand to wipe the blood off of my chin. It was still bleeding.

“You— you…” he started, taking a step towards me. I took a step back.

I raised my eyebrows, wondering where the masked man got the confidence to get so close to me. After all, we had only fought together a couple of times. I hardly knew the guy.

“You called me Peter.” He said.

“What?” I asked, eyebrows furrowing. I couldn’t recall.

“You called me Peter,” he repeated, voice shaking slightly.

“I…” I said, trying to remember when I would have said that name. I shook my head, “I’m sorry, it was probably just a mix of the adrenaline and muscle memory,” I continued, “I fought with a Peter a couple of times— oh wait, you did too! Remember Quill? I’m not sure why I would have been thinking of him in the moment, but— oh.”

Spider-Man had stepped closer, and his hands cupped my face, thumb rubbing gently to wipe the blood off my chin. I closed my eyes tightly, a sharp pain shooting through my skull.

“So…” his voice shook as he held my face in his hands, “So you don’t remember?”

“Remember?” I asked, blinking my eyes open despite the deep ache that made me want to go home and sleep for two days straight.

Remember? Did Spider-Man know something about my memories?

“Do you know something about—“ I started, reaching a hand to clutch to my head as the ache turned into dizziness. I stumbled forward, my face falling straight into Spider-Man’s chest. He responded quickly, bringing a hand to support the back of my head and another to my waist, keeping me upright.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” He asked, voice still shaking, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, no, yeah,” I said, moving back and shaking my head, “It’s just, it’s a weird thing that’s been happening. But I’m okay.”

“Come on,” he said, “Let’s go inside. We need to clean your chin and bandage it so it doesn’t get infected.”

“What?” I asked, looking around the rooftop, “Inside?”

“Do you trust me?” He asked, holding out a hand.

“Yes,” I responded, not even having to think about it.

Upon later reflection, I wondered what made me feel so confident that I could trust Spider-Man. Sure, we had fought on the same team a couple of times, but that wasn’t saying much. I supposed that since my father trusted him, that I could trust him, too. That seemed like a worthy explanation.

He stepped forward, grabbing my waist tightly— and suddenly we were falling. Right off the edge of the roof.

The fall didn’t last long, however. We only fell for about ten feet before Spider-Man used his web to pull us through a window on the top floor of the building that we had been standing on top of.

The room was, for lack of better terms, a total dump. The floor boards were rotting, there was no internal heating aside from a small space heater that seemed to be approaching the end of its space heater life, and it smelled like a mix of mildew and dirty laundry.

My expression must have shown my distaste for the new environment, because Spider-Man spoke up.

“Hey, ya know, not all of us can afford the Stark penthouse suite.”

“So I’ve been told,” I frowned, examining the room further. “The city isn’t paying you enough?” I asked.

He shrugged, “I uh— I don’t mind living here, it’s not that bad.”

I nodded, stepping forward and taking a seat on what appeared to be his bed, but was really more of a cot with a thin blanket and a flat pillow. He stood for a moment, watching me.

“…the bandages?” I reminded him.

“Ye-yeah,” he stuttered, “I’ll just— I’ll go get those.”

Walking over to a small closet (or bathroom?), Spider-Man rummaged around, and returned quickly with a bottle of antiseptic, some gauze, and a large bandage.

“Thanks,” I said, as he placed the supplies on the cot beside me. I reached down, grabbing the bottle of antiseptic.

“Hey wait,” he said, crouching down. He placed his gloved hand over mine, “Let me.”

I paused for moment, watching the small tremor in his hand.

“Okay,” I replied, nodding.

With a soft touch, Spider-Man began to clean the wound on my chin. He was crouching directly in front of me now, but the cot was low enough to the ground that we were practically at eye level. His hands shook slightly, and I could hear his breath stuttering with the close proximity of our faces. It felt vaguely familiar.

“Hey my friend is totally going to kill me if he finds out that I was with you and didn’t say anything—” I said, “I guess, we’re just all really appreciative of the times that you saved us— I mean— I’m not sure if you remember actually, but I went to Midtown High School, and you saved us like, twice? Three times maybe?”

He nodded, patting my chin lightly with antiseptic and a piece of gauze, “I remember.”

“Well,” I said, “Thank you. That was cool.”

“No problem,” he said, clearing his throat, “Happy I could help.”

“That was kind of crazy,” I thought out loud, flinching at the sting of the antiseptic.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I sighed, “Anyway, that was crazy. You always were in the right place at the right time. First DC— when you saved us in the Washington Monument, then… wait I don’t want to sound like an idiot here… but you were the night monkey, right? In Europe?”

He chuckled lightly, “Yeah, that was me.”

“I knew it!” I said, “I totally called that by the way. Half of my class was convinced it was— actually, it doesn’t matter. Thank you,” I said, smiling at the hero in front of me.

He nodded, continuing his work on my chin and grabbing a bandage.

“How did you do that?” I asked.

“What?”

“How were you always in the right place at the right time?” I continued, “I mean, you just happened to be in DC at the same time as the Academic Decathlon, then you also somehow were just casually in Europe at the exact time that my class was visiting?”

He didn’t say anything.

“Oh my gosh,” I said, remembering Ned and Mj’s theories, “I swear I won’t tell anyone… but… Flash?”

Spider-Man leaned back, dropping a piece of gauze and letting out a real, deep laugh.

“Soooo… not Flash?” I laughed.

He wiped his eyes through his mask, leaning forward again and shaking his head, “Definitely not Flash.”

I nodded, smiling as he moved back to begin placing the bandage on my chin.

“Wait…” I said, narrowing my eyes at him, “…Mr. Harrington?”

He shook his head, letting out a soft chuckle, “Where are you getting this information?”

I sighed, “My friends have been trying to track you down for a while, and those were some of the only options that made sense… you know… with always being in the same place as my class and everything.”

He nodded, but stayed silent.

“Wait, but you never denied it,” I looked closely at him, praying that it was not my high school teacher behind the mask.

“Definitely not Mr. Harrington, either,” he confirmed, shaking his head as he finished applying the bandage.

He stood up, heading to the other side of the room to put the antiseptic away and throw out the bloody gauze.

“Thank goodness,” I said, leaning back on the cot, “That would be like, totally creepy. So many girls in our class had a crush on Spider-Man. That would be so wrong on so many levels.”

He looked over at me, “So many girls, huh?” He asked.

I smirked, “Well yeah, that kinda comes with the territory of being a super hero.”

“Hm,” he nodded, walking back over and sitting on the cot next to me.

“I bet you have a girlfriend—or… boyfriend? Who’s totally obsessed with you—“ I said, but my head started throbbing. I laid back, shutting my eyes.

“No, I don’t… I used to have someone, but— hey, are you okay?” He asked, and I could feel him turn toward me from where he was sitting.

I nodded, keeping my eyes shut, “Yeah, I’m okay. Just a headache. Keep talking.”

“Do you need anything?” He asked, “I have medicine if you need—“

Shaking my head, I opened my eyes and looked at the man, “No, it’ll go away on its own. Keep talking.”

I wasn’t sure what it was about Spider-Man’s company, but suddenly my plans for the evening of soup and a movie seemed like the least desirable thing in the world. Perhaps it was talking to someone familiar.

We had only fought together a couple of times, but he knew my father. He also knew what it was like to have the pressure of saving the world on his shoulders.

There was something else. Something vaguely familiar. Perhaps we had interacted more times than I’d recalled. The year surrounding Thanos and his attack all seemed to blur and blend together, so I wasn’t exactly certain— but I did know that laying on this cot, in this sorry excuse for an apartment, I felt like myself. For the first time in a long time.

“Okay…” he started, “Well, I did have someone, a while ago. Not really a girlfriend… well actually, she was kind of my girlfriend… but I was definitely more obsessed with her than she was with me.”

I smiled up at the superhero, “That’s sweet,” I said, “What happened to her?”

He sighed, leaning back on his palms and looking at the ceiling, “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?” I asked, “If you care about her, why does it have to be complicated?”

He sighed again, shaking his head and shifting his weight to look at me, “Enough about me. Tell me about you. Do… do you have anyone?”

I grinned, “Why, do you have a crush on me?”

“I— what?” He stuttered.

“I’m kidding, relax,” I shook my head, laughing, “But no, not right now, at least. I go to MIT, and the boys there are cute— don’t get me wrong, but nobody can keep up with me.”

Spider-Man laughed, “You sound just like your dad.”

I smiled, reaching up instinctively to grip my necklace. The necklace that I might not have if it weren’t for the hero sitting in front of me. “I get that a lot.”

“I’m sure there are lots of guys chasing after you at MIT,” he said. His left hand started reaching out, almost like he was going to my hair out of my face, but it stopped before it reached me.

“Oh, totally,” I said, yawning, “I didn’t say I don’t have options. They just aren’t… I don’t know…”

“Hm?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know how to explain it, I just feel like I’m waiting for someone. Someone who just gets me, without even having to try. You know?”

He nodded, “Yeah, yeah. I do know.”

Stars began to litter my vision, and I closed my eyes tightly. My head felt like it was completely filled with television static that prevented me from thinking clearly.

May. Germany. Midtown.

“Y/n, what’s happening?” Spider-Man asked.

“It’s just,” I shook my head and rubbed my forehead, trying to get rid of the dreadful sensation, “Sorry, this has been happening lately. Just give me a sec.”

I took deep breaths and blinked my eyes as the feeling started to dull.

“Tell me what’s happening,” he said, reaching down to gently turn my head to look at him.

“This is going to sound weird,” I said, blinking up at the red mask.

He stared at me.

“Something happened with my memory. I guess… someone tampered with it?” I started, “I’ve been having these episodes— my head gets fuzzy, sometimes I lose my balance, sometimes I get these terrible headaches…”

“Y/n…”

“I went to see Dr. Strange a couple of weeks ago. He did this weird thing where he like… had this giant golden image of my brain, and he said that he could tell that at some point a spell had been done to block some of my memories. He thinks that it was his magic, which I’m kind of mad about, now that I think of it.

“But anyway, he said that it’s too dangerous to reverse, but that over time there is a miniscule chance that I might recover some of the memories. But it’s been driving me nuts. I can’t remember what I’m forgetting, or who, but I’ve been having these episodes more and more.”

“Y/n, I have to tell you something.” Spider-Man said, taking my hand gently in his.

“I just want to go back to normal,” I said, realizing how exasperated I truly was, “I’ve been doing all of these things to jog my memory, but nothing seems to be working so far. You actually found me when I was on my way home from my most recent attempt to recover some memories— which totally failed by the way. And then those guys came along, which, wait, let’s talk about that because that was—“

“Y/n.” He interrupted, his gloved hand still covering mine. I wasn’t sure why I allowed the touch, but it didn’t feel wrong.

“Yeah?” I asked.

“I have to tell you something,” he said, squeezing my hand lightly. He reached under his bed, pulling out a small sheet of paper. He pressed the sheet into my left hand. “You’re going to hate me, and you might never want to talk to me again, but you deserve to know the truth.”

I frowned. What reason would I possibly have to hate Spider-Man? And, why was he talking to me like we had any sort of real friendship beyond tonight and the several times that we had saved the world together?

“You’re being weird,” I admitted, a nervous laugh leaving my lips. “Is everything okay?”

“Y/n, I’m so sorry,” he said, his gloved thumb started to rub small circles on the back of my hand with the paper in it. “The spell, it was—“

I sat up quickly, clutching my head as small gold flecks dotted my vision. The sheet of paper dropped to the floor.

Germany. Aunt May. May Parker. Benjamin F. Parker. Queens.

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed, slapping my hand to my mouth. I stood, tapping twice on my necklace. The nanotechnology started to spread over my neck and shoulders, coating me in my suit.

“What?” Spider-Man asked, shooting up to stand beside me.

“I think I just remembered something,” I said, grinning, “Sorry, you’re going to have to hold that thought.”

“Wha—“ he took a step toward me, “What did you remember?”

“Can’t talk now,” I said, waiting for my suit to finish spreading over my body, “Give me a call and you can finish telling me… whatever that was.”

“Y/n, wait,” he said, “Please.”

His voice pleaded, and I almost considered staying, but this was the first lead that I’d had that actually might have given me any answers.

“Please don’t go,” he begged, taking my suit-covered hand in his own gloved one.

“Call me,” I said, pulling my hand free and stepping toward his open window that we had swung through just thirty minutes prior.

“I don’t have your number,” he said, following me to the window.

I shrugged, “Have your people call my people.”

I engaged my thrusters, taking me out of the window before he finished calling after me, “But I don’t have any people to call your—“

—

Haymitch Abernathy x Reader

author's note: hiiii this is a prequel to this story: The 52nd Hunger Games and that story is literally my masterpiece so go read :)

warnings: saddddd, angst, being young and in love, the hunger games, mentions of grief and death, prequellllll

Word Count: ~4.4k

District 12 was always extra silent the morning after the Reaping. I guess I was too young to really understand it all then. My parents did a good job at shielding me from the horrors of the world for as long as they possibly could. I was only ten, and the thought that I might someday have to fight to the death in an arena designed by the Capitol was hardly a thought in my head.

I knew what the Games were, obviously. It was required for our schools to teach us about the war and everything that came after. And yet, it all seemed like some far off reality that could never touch me. The only thing I could control was myself, so why worry about something I had no control over?

It just so happened that on this specific day, the only thing I wanted to control was staying in bed a little longer. My friend Burdock had other plans. He’d woken me up far too early, and far too loud for my liking.

My parents had been great friends with the Everdeens for as long as I could remember, which meant that Burdock Everdeen was far too comfortable coming into our house and disturbing me.

We’d always been great friends, but he had been starting to spend more and more time with some curly haired blonde boy from the Seam. I wasn’t jealous. Burdock was like a cousin to me. But that didn’t stop me from wondering what was so great about this strange blonde boy that made Burdock want to spend so much time with him. He’d even stopped waking me up at dawn to go to the meadow. I didn’t mind, but it was strange.

Now as we walked through the streets of District 12 just as the sun was beginning to come up, it felt like things were finally starting to go back to normal. Save for the deafening silence.

At that age, I was just beginning to understand the unspoken day of grieving immediately after the Reaping. I didn’t personally know the tributes that went to the Games that year, they were too old to be in any of my classes. But what I did know was that the two teenagers that stood on the stage that year would never be seen again.

I was about to ask Burdock if he knew either of the tributes when he made a quick turn, away from the path we normally take to get to the meadow.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

Burdock kept walking, “To the bakery,” he said.

“The bakery?” I walked faster to catch up with him, “Why? It’s not anyone’s birthday.”

Burdock shook his head, “No, but yesterday it was.”

I scrunched my nose, “Who’s birthday is on Reaping day? That’s sad.”

Burdock didn’t answer. He kept walking.

“Burdock?”

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “It was Haymitch’s birthday. Thought we’d do something nice since his birthday is so depressing.”

I stopped walking, my feet suddenly silent against the gravel. “Haymitch Abernathy? That blonde boy you’re always off with?”

Burdock stopped walking, turning to face me. “Yeah, now come on.”

I started walking again, catching up to him. “You didn’t get me a cake on my birthday.”

“Your pa got you a cake on your birthday,” Burdock said, kicking gravel in front of him.

“Well, why didn’t Haymitch’s pa get him a cake for his birthday?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“He doesn’t have a pa anymore.” Burdock said quietly.

The rest of the walk to the bakery was quiet. He didn’t have a pa? I wondered what happened to him. I wondered a lot of things about this Haymitch boy.

“What’s on your mind?” Burdock asked as we stepped in front of the bakery, “You’re being quiet this morning.”

“Am not,” I said, glaring at him.

“You are,” Burdock said, nodding, “Normally you never stop talking. Today you’re quiet.”

I looked at my ash covered shoes, playing with the gravel beneath my feet, “I dunno,” I said, “I just feel sorry that Haymitch doesn’t have a pa, and that his birthday is on Reaping day. That’s all.”

Burdock smiled, a wide smile, and clapped me on my shoulder. “That’s why we’re doing something nice today.”

A smile slowly made its way across my face as we stepped into the bakery.

Burdock ordered a fancy cupcake to put a candle in. That was all he could afford. I reached into my pocket, knowing my pa never let me leave the house without change in my pocket.

“And some pastries,” I said, placing my change on the counter. Burdock nudged me and smiled, shaking his head.

When we left the bakery with paper bags in our arms, the sun was beginning to warm up the streets of 12. If we were lucky, we’d make it to Haymitch’s house before it got too blistering.

“Where does he live?” I asked as we walked.

“In the Seam,” Burdock said.

I nodded.

We walked and walked until my feet started to get sore. My shoes were worn out, but my ma insisted that it wouldn’t be time to get another pair until school starts again. She said I’d wear out another pair by then anyways, with how much time I spent running around with Burdock.

“Burdock, my feet hurt. How much longer?” I asked, walking carefully to try to take some pressure off.

“We’re almost there,” he said.

And we were. The houses were starting to look less cared for— if you could say that any houses in 12 really were cared for. Yet, the houses in the Seam had a specific level of dilapidation that most other houses didn’t. They were extra old, extra rotten, and extra small.

We eventually came across a house that stood a little straighter than the others, with a woman and a toddler on the porch. The woman was speaking softly to the young boy, who was giggling and looking at her with stars in his eyes. When she looked up, her eyes brightened a bit.

“Well hi, Burdock,” the woman greeted, “Wasn’t expecting to see you out here this morning.”

Burdock smiled, stepping into the porch, “Thought I’d come say happy birthday.”

“Does your ma know you came all the way out here?” The woman asked, giving him a teasing look of suspicion.

Burdock shrugged, “Naw, but she won’t be mad. She’s got a lot of cleaning to do today. She’ll be happy I’m out of the house.”

The woman nodded, an actual look of concern floating over her features before returning to a smile, “Make sure you remind her that if she needs any clothes washed that she should bring them to me. I’ll charge her half price.”

Burdock nodded, “Will do.” He gestured vaguely toward me, paper bags wrinkling, “This is my friend. She’s got pastries.”

The woman smiled, “Haymitch is lucky to have such kind friends.”

I wondered if that’s what we would be. Friends. It was hard to imagine enjoying the company of the person who had stolen my closest friend.

But I just waved— the best wave I am able to do with a paper bag in each hand— and we walked though the front door of the house.

“Haymitch?” Burdock called through the house, walking across the creaky floors to a small table. He set his paper bags down. Just as I was about to put mine down, I heard the floorboards creak behind me and turned to see Haymitch Abernathy hesitantly coming through a door on the other side of the small room.

“Burdock?” He said, furrowing his eyebrows. He glanced at me for only a moment. “What are you doing here? I thought we weren’t going out to the woods until later.”

Burdock took the cupcake out of the paper bag on the table and said, “Happy birthday, Haymitch.”

Haymitch’s face cracked into a grin, and he quickly approached the table, looking in all of the bags that we brought.

“Thanks!” He said, “You didn’t have to do that.”

Burdock shrugged, about to say something when Haymitch turned to me.

“Is this the girl you’re always with?” He asked.

I frowned, “My name is y/n.”

Haymitch turned to me with a big smile on his face, extending a hand for me to shake and said, “Hi, I’m Haymitch.”

I shook it.

He quickly turned back to Burdock, “Thanks for all this. Those pastries are my favorite. Ma almost never can afford them.”

Burdock smiled and nodded to me, “Those are from her.”

Haymitch turned back to me, “Thanks!” He reached into the bag, digging out a small pastry that was shaped like the moon. “Do you always get birthday gifts for people you don’t know?”

I frowned, “I know you now.” I said, mildly irritated at his questioning.

“That you do.” He said, and then called, “Ma! Sid! Come see what they brought!”

After that, it was hard to imagine what my days had been like before Haymitch came along. That Summer alone the three of us had spent endless hours climbing trees, running through the meadow, and swimming in the stream.

When school started back up, we were all a lot busier with chores and homework, but we still saw eachother almost every day. Burdock still came over for dinner most days, and Haymitch started showing up at my house unannounced when he needed help with homework. I didn’t mind one bit. Every weekend we’d all wake up at dawn and race to the meadow until we were breathless from laughing too hard.

The next year was the first year anyone we’d known had gotten Reaped. It was our teacher that year’s son. She stopped showing up to school after that. Our class was taken over by Mr. Avett. He was nice, but it was never the same.

The night of the Reaping, Haymitch’s birthday, we were all tucked into my room together. Haymitch and Burdock didn’t have their own rooms in their houses, so we spent the most time in my house. My parents didn’t mind. They were normally busy with work anyways.

Burdock insisted that we celebrated Haymitch’s birthday in some way, but Haymitch didn’t want to. He said he’d already celebrated that morning with his ma and Sid, and that after the Reaping he’d lost his excitement.

I was trying hard to hold my tears back until after they left. Watching our teacher cry today broke something inside of me that I wasn’t sure would ever be repaired.

We sat in a circle on my floor together, but I wasn’t speaking much. I was afraid my voice would crack if I did.

At one point, Burdock made a joke that I must’ve missed. Both of the boys stared at me, waiting for a reaction. I looked between them, trying to recall what had been said.

Haymitch nudged my foot with his own, “You okay?” He asked.

I nodded, forcing a smile onto my face. I still didn’t trust my voice.

He frowned, eyes scanning my face.

Burdock broke the silence, “He might be okay, you know?”

“What?” Haymitch and I both asked.

“He might live. He might be District 12’s first Victor. Why should we believe he doesn’t have a chance?” Burdock asked, and by the tone of his voice I could suddenly tell that he was a lot more bothered than he was letting on.

Haymitch scrunched his eyebrows together, shaking his head, “I thought District 12 already had a Victor.”

Burdock shook his head, “I don’t think so… in school we’ve never learned about a game that one of us has won. Plus, no one lives in Victor’s Village.”

We both stared at him.

“Anyways,” Burdock continued, “I’m just saying he might be the first.”

The lump in my throat was growing harder to swallow.

“Yeah,” Haymitch nodded— hesitantly— as if trying to convince himself that it might be true, “He might.”

I couldn’t hold it back anymore and a sob escaped my throat as tears began to stream down my face. “But, he might not!” I cried.

The boys always denied it, but they shed a few tears too that night. When our tears stopped, we all took turns telling what our ideas of Heaven looked like. I’d never heard anyone describe Heaven as beautifully as Haymitch did.

After that, my world started to spin a little bit differently. The following year was the first year that we were eligible for the Reaping. I remember holding my breath for so long during the ceremony that I’d nearly passed out. Maysilee Donner had to nudge me to keep me upright, and then laughed at me.

It ended up being two older kids that I didn’t know. Even when I exhaled, I didn’t feel the same. It could have been any of us. Me, Burdock, or even Haymitch. But it wasn’t. I was grateful, but part of me was still stricken with terror that one day it might be one of us being sent into that arena.

At thirteen, Burdock started getting busier. He didn’t come over for dinner as often, and only was able to stay at my house until he had to go do his chores. Haymitch was still around a lot, but it felt different without Burdock. Burdock was the glue that brought us together. Without him, the dynamic was shifted.

I started noticing things about Haymitch. How his hands fidgeted when he was frustrated with a homework assignment, how the space between his brows creased when I teased him, and most of all how golden his hair looked when we were in the meadow just before sunset. He also didn’t talk much. Well, he did when I gave him the chance— but when I started talking he would just listen until I finally decided to shut up about whatever was on my mind that day.

I also started noticing things about myself. The feeling I got when I made him laugh, the way I had to pull my eyes away when he smiled that big smile of his, and the way it seemed that the Mockingjays’ songs got louder every time I looked at him. I wasn’t sure why I felt that way, but I knew that part of me didn’t mind that Burdock had gotten more busy.

The next year, Haymitch got busy too. His ma was struggling to make money, so he was doing everything he could to help out. I’d bring them food sometimes to free him up for an evening, but I was starting to miss our long days together.

It didn’t help that Burdock started crushing on my friend Astrid. He spent a lot of his free time with her, so I was alone. I decided that I should help my parents with their work to keep myself busy. It worked, but I missed my friends.

That Summer was one of my favorites. I’d started spending a lot of time with Astrid, which was refreshing after spending so much time with boys. And yet, everywhere we went, they would show up. They were bored with less work to do in the Summer, and Burdock liked to find ways to spend time with Astrid. Even if that meant intruding on our hang outs.

The four of us were reckless teenagers that laughed too hard, stayed out too late, and told each other everything. We spent most nights in the meadow as the sun went down. We had chores to do in the morning, but it didn’t matter. Burdock would usually slowly move closer to Astrid, and they would end up in their own little world. It was quite endearing to watch. My closest friend was falling in love.

Haymitch and I took that as our cue to give them some distance. We would normally end up somewhere in the woods, looking up at the stars and laughing until we were both red in the face. These moments were my favorite.

“Remember that time we climbed that tree just past the stream and—“ Haymitch couldn’t even get his words out without doubling over with laughter.

I cut in, “And Burdock sprained his ankle?” I laughed just as hard.

We ended up sitting against a large tree that looked over the meadow. We could see Astrid and Burdock getting up to walk home in the distance. We both should’ve been home by then, it was getting late, but it was too nice out and I didn’t mind getting scolded from my parents if it meant spending more time with Haymitch.

“I’m really glad Burdock dragged me to your house that day,” I said, staring off into the dark field. Fireflies had started to dot the air in front of us.

Haymitch laughed, “Yeah, me too.”

Neither of us said anything for a minute.

I’m not sure why I asked this. I’m not sure why I said most of the things I said around him. He felt like another part of me. I could say anything and he would just get it. I never had to ask to be understood. I never had to explain myself. He knew me better than I knew myself.

“Do you think Astrid and Burdock will get married?” I asked, quietly.

Haymitch laughed again, turning his head against the tree to look at me. He had a piece of a leaf in his hair. I reached up to get it out and he studied me closely.

“I think so.” He said, “They have something special.”

I nodded, looking into his eyes. “I think so, too.”

“Do you think you’ll ever get married?” He asked, reaching out his hand to play with my fingers. He always liked to fidget, especially when he was tired.

I sighed, thinking for a moment. “I think so. Maybe one day. But I don’t want to think about that until after I turn 19.”

He set my hand back down, turning so he was fully facing me. “Why 19?”

I didn’t even have to think before I responded. “Because after I turn 19 I’ll never have to worry about getting Reaped again.”

I paused, picking a weed from the ground, “I don’t want to fall in love with someone just to lose them. Or for them to lose me. You know?”

He thought for a good minute, the crease between his brows appearing, before reaching for my hand again. “Yeah, I know. My ma has it hard.”

I nodded, squeezing his hand. “Do you think you’ll ever get married?”

He nodded, looking up at me, “Yeah. Some day.”

“Some day,” I repeated, looking out into the field of fireflies.

We were both quiet for a minute, my hand in his, before I smirked and said, “Got anyone in mind? Lula Mae from school has got her eye on you.”

He shoved my shoulder, laughing and shaking his head, “She does not.”

“Yes she does,” I said, laughing with him, “I always catch her staring at you in math class.”

“Well, sweetheart,” he said, grinning, “I’ve got some bad news for you because I always catch you staring at me in history class.”

“No you don’t!” I exclaimed, face reddening from both the nickname he called me and the accusation.

“Mhm,” he said, smirking teasingly, “Maybe you’re the one that wants to marry me.”

I shoved him gently, “I do not stare at you. If I do it’s probably because you’ve got dirt on your face or something.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

On the morning of Haymitch’s sixteenth birthday, I went to the Seam early. Burdock had plans to go see Astrid, and I knew I’d be busy helping my parents after the Reaping ceremony, so I wanted to wish my best friend a happy birthday before the day got started.

I was already in my clothes for the Reaping. A purple blouse that was my moms, and a long white skirt that she’d made for me from leftover fabric. It was beautiful. It wasn’t all white. Some of it was cream, some ivory, some tan, but it was mine. And I loved it.

Haymitch and I went out to the meadow for only a short time. He had to do some work before the ceremony, so I couldn’t keep him too long. I brought him pastries and a card from my parents. He gave me a hug, and I wished he hadn’t let go.

“Will you come over tomorrow?” I asked, taking a bite out of my pastry.

He pretended to think for a moment, then said “If I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Hey!” I pretended to be offended.

He laughed at himself, then said, “Yes, sweetheart, I’ll be there.”

I smiled, allowing myself to blush at the nickname. Haymitch and I had gotten closer that year. Burdock insisted he was sweet on me, but I didn’t believe him. Not really. But I did know that I might’ve been a little sweet on him.

“Good,” I said, “then we can properly celebrate your birthday.”

“What are we doing now?” He asked, finishing his pastry.

“Well,” I started, “I don’t know. It just never really feels like we can celebrate your birthday on Reaping day.”

He nodded, his face dropping just slightly, “Yeah,” he said, “I know.”

I searched for a second, wracking my brain for something to lighten the mood. It was his birthday, and I wasn’t going to let him be sad on his birthday.

“Open your card!” I said, suddenly, picking up his card from the ground and handing it to him.

“Okay,” he said, a small smile returning to his face.

He opened the paper wrapping carefully, knowing that my pa likes to reuse it when he can. He pulled out a small card where I had written ‘happy 16th birthday Haymitch’ on the front.

On the inside, was five dollars in cash. It wasn’t much, but my parents have a special savings jar where they keep money for people’s birthdays. After how much I’ve talked about Haymitch to them, they figured this year he deserved one too.

His jaw dropped, “You can’t— I can’t— I can’t accept this,” he stumbled over his words.

“It’s your birthday gift,” I said, smiling. “I was hoping it would be enough so you could take some time away from work for a few days.”

He smiled brightly, wrapping me in his arms. “Thank you. Tell your parents thank you.”

I smiled, wrapping my arms around him just as tightly. “You can tell them yourself, when you come over tomorrow.”

He pulled away, staring at the money in the card. He looked back up at me, back down at the card, and then closed the card, putting it down on the grass beside him. He shifted closer to me, reaching down to take my hand.

“Actually…” he said, running his thumb over the back of my hand, “What are you doing later— I mean— after the ceremony?”

I furrowed my eyebrows, “After the ceremony? I think I’m just helping my parents with work. Why?”

He looked out over the meadow for a breath. “Do you want to meet me?” he asked, turning his head back to look at me, “Back here, after the Reaping?”

“Back here?” I asked, “Why?”

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about something.” He said, fidgeting with my hand.

“Why don’t you talk to me now?” I asked, laughing lightly. His eyes looked extra blue in the light, his hair glistening in the sun.

He breathed out, the crease between his brows deepening, “I’ve got to go in a minute. But meet me here, after the Reaping? Well, actually, I’ve got to go fill the cistern for Ma right after, but then you’ll meet me here?”

“Haymitch, I—“

“You look beautiful today, by the way,” Haymitch interrupted.

My face got hot. I wasn’t sure what to say, but butterflies swarmed my insides.

He laughed at my reaction, grabbing his card and standing up. He reached out a hand to help me stand as well. I took it.

“So you’ll meet me?” He asked.

I nodded, still trying to find my words, “Yeah,” I said, “I’ll be here.”

He nodded, smiling at the ground. “I’ve got to go,” he said, taking a step away.

“Haymitch,” I stopped him, taking ahold of his hand quickly and pulling him close to me again. I stood on my toes and pressed a quick kiss on his cheek, before I could think any better.

“Happy birthday, Haymitch,” I said quickly, stepping back. “I’ll see you later.”

He grinned wide, touching his cheek where I’d just kissed and nodding, “I’ll see you later,” he said, turning and starting away.

For the next hour I was buzzing from energy. All I could think of was meeting Haymitch in the meadow later.

When the Reaping approached, however, my spirits had begun to sink. I walked to the town square with my parents, discussing our usual meeting place after the ceremony is over. They hugged me before we went our separate ways.

I stood with the other girls in my age group, clustered together like cattle. It was too hot, and my palms were sweaty from heat and nerves, but I caught Haymitch’s eye across the square and smiled momentarily.

“It’s okay,” he mouthed to me. I nodded.

The girls were called first. Maysilee Donner was called. I felt sick. I was standing with Merrilee and Astrid who sobbed when she walked to the stage. I held their hands tightly.

I didn’t really know the other girl, Louella McCoy, but she was too young. Seeing them both on that stage made me want to throw up. I looked over to Haymitch, who looked like he wanted to come over to me. But he couldn’t.

What happened next was a blur. The boys names were called and I felt a sense of relief for just a moment, that Burdock and Haymitch weren’t called, but then a gunshot rang. I didn’t see what happened, too distracted by the cries of the girls around me and my own paralyzing fear, but the next thing I knew Haymitch was getting pushed onto the stage.

“No.” I heard myself say.

“NO!” I cried, stepping out of the ropes they confined us in. Astrid and Merrilee grabbed my arms, pulling me back.

“No. Haymitch!” I called.

The next thing I knew, Burdock was in front of me, holding me tightly and blocking my view from the stage.

Haymitch was going to the Games. Not just any Games, but the Quarter Quell. With double the tributes.

Rafe Cameron x bsf!reader

Summary: Yn Ln and Rafe Cameron have been best friends since literal birth. They grew up celebrating every birthday, holiday, and occasion together. Their families had always joked about them growing up and getting married someday… but they never needed more from eachother than a friendship. This Summer tensions are running high in many ways… Will their friendship survive? Or might they discover that they have been needing something more?

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