Stranger

Peter walked down the echoing hallways of Stark Tower, each footstep seeming to carry the mocking taunts of a place he was beginning to resent. Everything about it felt off- cold, clinical, and brimming with a synthetic warmth he never bought into. The walls were slick, unfeeling metal and glass, bright LED lights that left no room for shadows or quiet places to think. It was all a show, really. A stage dressed up with shining gadgets and sleek furniture, but with nowhere to hide from the glaring reality that he just didn’t belong here.

He hated it. At first, he’d been excited. Stark Tower had once represented everything he dreamed of, a place of innovation, a new home, and a chance to make a difference alongside heroes he looked up to. But now, the dream had soured. The excitement had worn off like peeling paint, leaving him feeling exposed, out of place, and, more than anything, unwanted.

It wasn’t just the space; it was him. He hated himself for caring so much about what they thought, about whether he mattered. He hated that he couldn’t just shrug off the glances or the murmurs of people walking by as if he were an afterthought. It felt like the tower was feeding his insecurities, whispering them back to him, amplifying them until he couldn’t ignore how out of place he felt. Every corner, every automated voice, every smug reminder of Tony's tech felt like it was pushing him out, reminding him that he was now a guest, a temporary fixture in a place that wasn’t really his.

Then, Harley had shown up.

Just one day, there he was: another kid, about Peter’s age but somehow fitting into Stark’s world like he’d been born for it. Harley was smart, confident, and, apparently, exactly what everyone here had been waiting for. Within days, it was as if Harley had always been there, filling the space when Peter hadn’t been able to, making jokes that everyone laughed at, showing up at the lab and getting that approving nod from Tony that Peter used to crave.

At first, Peter thought he could make friends with the teen. They had things in common, like how they both interest in tech, how they both make jokes, how they both love science and engineering, how they both loved watching movies

but Harley didn't feel the same.

Harley felt as if Peter was a nuisance in the tower, a thief. Harley acted like Peter was a virus to the Avengers. Peter always felt like talking to a wall whenever he'd try to talk to any of the avengers

The Tower had become a prison of its own kind. Every wall felt suffocating, the bright lights too harsh, as if they were meant to blind him rather than illuminate his path. Stark Tower, it was supposed to be a haven for heroes, a sanctuary. But now, to Peter, it felt like it was mocking him at every turn, like it was pushing him to realize something he wasn’t ready to confront.

The glistening floors, the relentless hum of machinery, the endless walls of glass and steel, it was all so cold. There was no life here, no warmth, just a place designed to remind him of everything he wasn’t. And as he wandered these hallways, he felt the growing ache of feeling out of place, the gnawing sensation that he didn’t belong, that he was being squeezed out, inch by inch.

It wasn’t just the Tower itself. The Avengers, Tony, especially- were starting to feel distant. When he first arrived, Tony would check in on him, banter with him, even drag him into the lab to show him some new tech, give him pointers, make him feel like he mattered. that went on for atleast 2 years, but that was fading now. The glances Tony used to throw his way, the moments they used to share, had become rare, almost perfunctory. Conversations were reduced to a few polite nods, short comments that barely held meaning. Tony barely looked at him now, barely saw him and put his attention to the other teen. And Peter couldn’t stand it.

It was like they were throwing him away, bit by bit. The Avengers had once seemed like a family, dysfunctional, sure, but something to hold onto. Now? Now he was just another person wandering the halls, another pair of boots squeaking down the polished floors. They’d all drifted, become more wrapped up in their missions, in their own lives. He was left trailing behind, clutching onto memories of belonging, of mattering, while they seemed perfectly content to leave him behind.

When did this all start?

Peter could barely pinpoint it, but slowly, day by day, the feeling grew. He was here in body but not in spirit, invisible in plain sight. He was Spider-Man, a kid who’d saved the city more times than he could count, but in the Tower, he was just… there. An afterthought, a distraction. They moved past him like he was part of the scenery, just another feature in a building full of brilliance and grandeur.

The walls felt closer every day, each step echoing down the hallway in a way that only highlighted his solitude. He didn’t matter here.

Peter tried to brush it off, but it hurt. Stark’s lingering looks, the way the team just seemed.. brighter.. around Harley. Even the small things started to sting, the way Harley had his own room after only a few weeks, the way his gadgets got instant approval while Peter’s suggestions were brushed aside. He’d hear their laughter echoing down the halls, usually from somewhere Harley had dragged them, and it felt like an unspoken reminder that Peter wasn’t part of it, not really.

The worst part? Tony barely noticed. He used to pull Peter aside, give him tips on projects, even poke fun at his costume and suggest upgrades. Now it was just a quick nod or a passing comment, barely more than polite acknowledgment. Peter’s attempts to join in, to remind them he was still there, only seemed to annoy them. Harley filled the room, and Peter found himself shrinking further into the background, slipping into a shadow he wasn’t sure he’d ever emerge from.

About two weeks after Harley moved in- oh, had he mentioned? Harley moved into the Tower, supposedly temporarily to handle some "assistant CEO" work for Stark Industries. Tony’s idea, of course. Tony wanted to start preparing Harley for the ropes of the company, maybe hand over a few duties here and there, just enough to ease him in.

Peter had been the potential heir to Stark Industries. Or so he thought.

Now? Now he doubted it more than ever. Harley was supposed to stay for only a month, just long enough to sort out some paperwork and finalize whatever arrangements Tony had cooked up.

But here they were, almost four months in, and Harley was still here, practically glued to the Tower- or to Tony. Peter figured, maybe even knew, that,

Harley wasn’t going away anytime soon.

And what stung the most wasn’t just Harley’s presence, it was everything Harley had taken along with it. It was as if Harley’s arrival had sucked the oxygen right out of the room. Tony, his mentor, his only sense of family, was now spending his time, his energy, his trust, all on Harley.

Where did that leave Peter?

He felt a bitter jealousy prickling at him, sharp as a thousand little needles. But he’d never say it out loud, never let that show. It felt so wrong, so selfish to feel this way. Harley was a good kid, and Tony was just doing what he thought was right. It was Peter’s own insecurities that were eating him alive. Still, the thought twisted in his mind:

Why Harley? Why did he have to take the only family Peter had? Didn’t he have his own family?

Peter tried to stay humble about it. After all, he wasn’t entitled to anything, was he? Just because Tony had taken him under his wing for a while, helped him out after May died, didn’t mean he owed him anything, not in the grand scheme of things.

Tony had a life, had choices to make, and maybe Peter was just a part of that life for a season, like an intern who eventually had to step aside for the “real deal.” It didn’t make it hurt any less, though. Every time he saw Tony and Harley together, whether it was in the lab, or at some meeting, or even just talking casually, it felt like a tiny piece of Peter’s heart was breaking off and falling into some unseen void.

And he knew, deep down, he couldn’t do anything about it. It was out of his hands. So, he’d bite his tongue, pretend it didn’t matter, and try not to let the bitterness show on his face. But it didn’t change the fact that he was alone again, and this time it stung a lot worse.

It started as a curiosity, an "Oh my god, you're Spider-Man?" moment when Harley discovered Peter's secret in his second week at the Tower. Peter had tried to play it cool, even if the revelation made him uneasy, especially because Tony hadn’t wanted anyone to know, let alone Harley. But from then on, things turned sour- fast. Harley seemed determined to make Peter's life a waking nightmare, inch by inch, like he was pulling threads from Peter’s carefully woven double life until it all started to unravel.

Harley knew exactly how to get under Peter’s skin, starting with his favorite tactic: begging Tony to let him become “Iron Lad.” Every day, relentless, Harley kept pushing Tony with big, bright-eyed “inspiration”, that since Peter had his Spider-Man thing going on, why couldn’t he, Harley, have his shot at a suit too?

And, to Peter’s dismay, Tony finally caved. It was a small favor, he thought, and a suit wouldn’t hurt anyone. But Peter knew Harley better than Tony did, and he could already sense the brewing disaster.

From then on, every patrol was a nightmare. Harley, now suited up, would stick close, but not because he wanted to help or learn. Oh no, he had a different plan. Harley started with small things, mistakes he’d call them, but to Peter, it was clear he was testing the waters. At first, Harley would “accidentally” miss his targets or leave a few loose ends for Peter to handle. And if Peter dared to bring it up?

Harley would just shrug and flash that innocent, sheepish grin that only made Tony side with him more. It was never a big deal to the Avengers, just a learning curve, just mistakes. But Harley wasn’t just making mistakes, he was using them as tools, always carefully positioning himself so they looked like Peter’s fault.

Then the mishaps became more deliberate, more dangerous. Harley had a knack for making his suit's controls “glitch” at just the right moment, sending a stray blast Peter’s way or slamming into him mid-air under the guise of a miscalculated maneuver. Each time, it looked accidental, of course.

But Peter knew Harley's moves were anything but clumsy. Every “oops” moment was planned, choreographed to look like Peter was the one messing up. Soon, the Avengers began to notice, and their patience with Peter started to wear thin.

Back at Stark Tower, Harley had a whole new arsenal of tactics. When Peter would work on a device in the lab, Harley would sneak in later, quietly tampering with the coding or misaligning a few circuits here and there. By the time Tony came around to inspect Peter’s work, things would inevitably go wrong.

The disappointment in Tony’s eyes burned, his voice tightening with every “Peter, you need to focus more” or “Why isn’t this working?” And every time, Harley would linger nearby, conveniently out of sight, but close enough to smirk when Tony wasn’t looking. Peter tried to explain a few times, but each time, it sounded like an excuse. After all, who else but Peter could have been responsible for his own project’s failures?

And it didn’t stop there. Harley seemed to find new ways to make Peter look like a screw-up every chance he got. If they trained together, Harley would act like a klutz, “accidentally” hitting Peter too hard or tripping him during sparring sessions. Sometimes, he’d even laugh it off, ruffling Peter’s hair with a smug grin and muttering something like, “You’re just so easy to knock down, Spider.”

Every action felt like a calculated strike, a way to cut Peter down bit by bit. And the Avengers, they were either blind to it or simply didn’t care.

Peter could feel the weight of it pressing down on him. Every slip-up, every sideways glance from Tony, every disappointed sigh, added to his guilt and frustration. It was like Harley had taken everything Peter valued, the Avengers, his work, his identity as Spider-Man, and twisted it into a weapon, using it against him in ways that were just subtle enough to go unnoticed by everyone else.

And no matter how many times he tried to convince himself he could deal with it, that he just had to push through, each new betrayal from Harley stung worse than the last.

Through it all, Peter had to bite his tongue, hold back his frustration, because he knew- he knew, that Harley was waiting for him to snap, waiting to watch him fall apart. And he wasn’t about to give him that satisfaction. Not yet.

So, he walked the halls, his gaze low, his heart heavy.

Oh how he missed living with May.

Peters ears perk up as he hears Harley and his team laughing when he reaches the entrance to the living room. He sighs, and fixes his gaze to the floor. He steps in the living room, but the voices and the laugher don't waver. He awkwardly walks past the group around the couch, where the team is huddled up infront of the couch on the floor in a circle as they all focus their attention to Harley.

"Yeah then i blast him-"

"he felt the wrath of keener-lad!"

"you- shh i need to humble myself dad!"

Laughter erupts from the group as Peter cringes. He sticks his earbuds in, ones that he'd use to block out sound- specifically made by his Dad Mr stark. He reaches his destination, the kitchen. Already dreading the walk back to his room. Peter bit his tongue, deciding to sit on a stool.

he feels a ding! in his pocket, and he grabs his phone, instantly smiling at the message notification.

Han ( Ned )

guys 

guys

guys

guys

guys

Luke ( Peter )

Wassup neddyleeds

Han ( Ned )

guess what i got

Leia ( Mj )

let me guess. the 75192 LEGO Star Wars Millennium Falcon set?

Han ( Ned )

how'd you know?

yk what im not even gonna ask

Luke ( Peter )

wtf

how did you get that

NAH

how did you AFFORD THAT

Han ( Ned )

it hurts me..

how you dont know i can afford atleast

50 of these.

Luke ( Peter )

Ned u cant even afford a ironsmash burger

Leia ( Mj )

Nerds. 

Han ( Ned )

ur one to talk michael janelle..

Leia ( Mj )

do you wanna die?

Peter chuckled, Michael Janelle was an inside joke between them, because one day Peter and Mj was at Neds house, and they searched 'Michelle Jones' to see if anyone had the same name. What came up was Michael Janelle, in which Peter and Ned started calling her that awful.. oh so awful name.

Han ( Ned )

NONO ahahahaha i never said that!

anyways how i got it, i have connections.

Luke ( Peter )

do u not know how suspicious u sound rn 

Leia ( Mj )

he probably stole it

Han ( Ned )

Bold of u to assume this michael.. My heart hurts!

oh ya Peter hows the Harley guy?

Luke ( Peter )

The same as always, hes just annoying but that

was probably me when i first joined

Han ( Ned )

Nah hes sketchy asf, like srsly? iron lad?

no one can beat spidey-boy!

Leia ( Mj )

Harleys a cunt. He tried hitting on me when he joined

Luke ( Peter )

Its fine, he didnt know that we're talking

Han ( Ned )

Peter yk you cant keep excusing him

because he lives in the tower

anyways gtg! lmk when you out spiding!!!

and lets build the falcon set ! come over whenever!!!!!!

Luke ( Peter )

bai

Leia ( Mj )

Bye nerds

Peter’s smile faded as he thought about Harley’s newest stunt. It was bad enough that Harley had invaded his life at Stark Tower, but now he had somehow wrangled his way into Midtown High too. Peter hadn’t even known it was possible for someone to enroll in a new school this late in the semester, but then again, he supposed it wasn’t much of a challenge for someone with Stark’s resources. Still, seeing Harley sauntering through the halls at Midtown felt like a twisted joke.

At first, Harley had acted indifferent, barely acknowledging Peter outside of the occasional nod. But as the days passed, he’d become... interested in Peter’s life outside of the tower. And that’s when the real trouble began. It didn’t take Harley long to zero in on Peter’s two closest friends: Ned and MJ.

He’d casually drop by at lunch or linger by Peter’s locker, pretending like he was just getting to know everyone, like he was genuinely trying to “fit in.” Peter kept telling himself that Harley couldn’t do any real damage- Ned and MJ had been with him through thick and thin, after all. But still, it gnawed at him to see Harley try to wiggle his way into his friends’ lives, especially MJ.

MJ, to her credit, hadn’t fallen for any of it. She saw through Harley’s charm the second he tried hitting on her, and her rejection had been blunt. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, Harley,” she’d said with her usual edge, leaving Harley looking momentarily stunned. It was satisfying to see, but Peter still caught the simmering anger in Harley’s eyes as he turned away. That rejection seemed to drive him straight to Flash, of all people.

Peter couldn’t shake the feeling that Harley's new friendship with Flash was more than just a coincidence. They were everywhere, joking around, whispering in the halls, and casting glances in Peter's direction. Flash seemed thrilled to have another so-called “cool guy” around, and Harley knew exactly how to play the part, quickly getting Flash to laugh at every insult he threw Peter’s way. Harley even hinted at stories from Stark Tower, saying just enough to make Peter sound like a joke without ever crossing the line where Tony might get involved.

Ned and MJ saw what was happening, of course. Ned kept telling Peter, “The guy’s sketchy as hell, you can’t keep letting him off the hook just because he lives at the tower,” but it wasn’t that simple. Confronting Harley would only make things worse, especially with Flash now hanging around him like his new best friend.

But Peter was glad they didnt choose him.

He didnt want to lose anyone else.

Peter got up from the stool, puting his phone in his pocket and grabing a few protien bars from the cabinet.

Peter wouldn't admit it, but he's gotten well, skinnier. He still had the usual muscle build that the spider had blessed him with, permanently well he thinks so? He tested it out, with his high metabolism. He would get skinnier, that all is left is just muscle, and no trace of fat, or anything else. The muscle stayed.

and then Peter would be in pain for not eating as much, or- eating at all but he got used to the bickering feeling.

His appetite got smaller when the other teen came. The teen would be chatting all of breakfast, lunch, dinner. snack time, everywhere. it annoyed Peter, it disgusted him.

Meal times had once been times to bond, to laugh, and share stories of battles and close calls. But Harley’s constant chatter and jokes had turned the table into something Peter could barely stand. It wasn’t just that Harley was there, it was that he dominated every conversation, every moment. Peter started skipping meals, retreating to the quiet solitude of his room His appetite had slowly withered away, like it couldn’t stand being around him either.

Soon, he lost his whole appetite, using his spare change- if he had any, to go outside and buy food, slowly avoiding the tower overall. Parts of him regrets it. It tells him that if he ate with them, he would join them in everything, get close with them.

The other part of him knows that in any other multiverse, they'll never get along.

Peter strutted to the living room, finding the avengers suddenly all suited up, he paused.

"Oh hey Peter- me and my team are going on a mission. U alright to stay here alone?" Harley said when he spotted Peter. Peter almost snarled infront of him, fighting the urge to spit right in his face.

"Yeah you know i've been living in this tower a few years before yo-" He was abruptly cut off.

"Alright. We don't know what we're dealing with, but all we know that its dangerous, and its a void-" yadda yadda.

Peter tuned out Steve, how dare Harley call Peters team, his team? Peters brows furrowed for the tenth-thousandth time today. He wished he went on team missions like he used to. After Harley being iron lad, Peters invitation to missions grew less, and less. Until it was no more.

He was astonished how much things can change in the span of 3 months. How his life had basically flipped upside-down because of one guy from Tennessee- oh how much he wishes that he just went back.

Peter started to focus when the team started walking to the elevator. He pried his eyes as Harley walked between Mr Stark and Nat, How he'd joke with Sam and Clint would place his hand on Harleys head and fluff his head- like how he used to do that to Peter

Peter felt jealousy gnaw at him, and caught a glimpse of Harleys smug grin when the elevator doors close.

Peter felt the weight of anger and frustration pressing down on him as he watched the empty elevator doors. The resentment had been building, layer by layer, until it felt like he was drowning in it. He had sacrificed so much to be part of this team, left behind everything he knew, pushed himself beyond his limits, and proved himself over and over again. But it seemed like none of that mattered anymore, all because of Harley.

Harley had swept in like a storm, somehow gaining everyone’s trust, admiration, and affection in a matter of weeks. It felt as though the Avengers had quickly forgotten all that Peter had done for them. The bruises he’d collected, the sleepless nights spent patching himself up after battles, the loyalty he’d shown them, all of it seemed to vanish in the wake of Harley’s arrival. And now, Peter was the outsider in a place that once felt like home.

“Guess I don’t belong here anymore,” he muttered under his breath, his voice filled with bitterness.

Peter slumped onto the couch, flipping through channels in a half-hearted attempt to distract himself. He thought back to how things had been just a few months ago, the sense of purpose he’d had, the feeling that he was making a difference alongside people he admired. And now, it felt like he was just.. there. An afterthought. Another shadow in the corner.

Peter would remember his assists in missions, how on the very couch he was sitting on, he'd lay on Mr Starks shoulder and he'd fall asleep, or when they would be playing cards and he'd scream and jump on the ceiling, or when he'd accidently break the light, or when he accidently burned the whole couch in the kitche-

A loud “BREAKING NEWS” banner flashed across the TV screen, snapping him out of his brooding.

The camera cut to scenes of panic-stricken New Yorkers running, buildings crumbling, and police cars screeching to a halt. In the middle of the chaos was a huge, black, amorphous entity, towering over the streets and tearing through anything in its path. The news anchor’s voice wavered as she gave updates.

“The Avengers are currently engaging an unknown, extremely dangerous black entity in the centre of New York. Residents are urged to remain indoors and avoid the area. Authorities believe.. ”

Peter’s eyes narrowed. The camera zoomed in on the Avengers, visible in flashes between plumes of smoke and debris. They were doing their best, but the entity was overwhelming them. Captain America’s shield was barely holding up, Iron Man’s repulsors only left shallow dents in the creature’s inky surface, and even Hulks’s smash seemed to have little effect.

Peter clenched his fists, feeling his heart race. He was tired, he was frustrated, and he felt pushed aside, but he couldn’t just sit here. The people of New York needed help, and if the Avengers couldn’t handle this alone, then he’d make sure they had backup, even if they didn’t want it.

Without a second thought, he sprinted to his room and grabbed his suit. As he pulled the mask over his face, the anger turned into focus. This was his city, his responsibility. If they weren’t going to take him seriously, then he’d just have to show them.

Peter swung out of the tower, his mind racing with the determination he’d felt slipping away lately. Maybe he wasn’t the one they chose, but he doesn't mind going alone.

Peter reached what was now a battlefield in utter chaos. Smoke, thick and acrid, filled the air as fragments of destroyed cars and debris scattered the streets. The fight had been raging for fifteen minutes by the time Spider-Man finally arrived, swinging between the crumbling buildings and maneuvering through the growing crowd of onlookers and first responders who were struggling to contain the panic.

Through the haze, Peter spotted Tony mid-battle, his armor scorched and smoking as he blasted repulsors at an unidentifiable, monstrous mass. The thing writhed, a shifting form of black and reddish goo that seemed to pulse with its own life force, occasionally morphing into long tendrils before snapping back.

Dark, oily smoke evaporated off it, and each shot from Tony’s blasters only caused it to scatter temporarily before reforming, stronger and darker than before.

“Nice of you to- ugh- show up!” Tony grunted, barely looking over as he fired another repulsor blast, only for the goo to absorb the energy and splatter into pieces.

Peter swung down, landing beside him and assessing the creature. “Yeah, well, figured you guys might need some extra hands with... whatever this is.”

“It’s not like anything we’ve seen before,” Tony muttered, a hint of frustration breaking through his usually calm exterior. “Nothing in the databases, nothing on record. And it just keeps reforming.”

Peter fired a series of web shots, attempting to slow the creature down by webbing its tendrils to the ground. For a brief moment, it appeared to work, the black ooze halting as if momentarily bound. But just as quickly, it shifted again, the webbing disintegrating as the entity seemed to absorb it, growing larger and more menacing with each failed attempt to contain it.

“What is this thing?” Peter muttered to himself, watching in disbelief as the goo transformed, taking on a vaguely humanoid shape, its surface shifting and rippling like a stormy sea. A growl emitted from it, a deep and resonant sound that made Peter’s skin crawl.

Just as Peter steadied himself, preparing for another shot at the creature, a thick wave of black smoke erupted from one of Tony’s blasts, curling and expanding until it engulfed him entirely. The dark, noxious fog enveloped him, consuming his vision entirely in a sudden, stifling blindness.

He blinked and blinked again, but all he could see was darkness- swirling, endless darkness, dense as ink and impossible to penetrate. Panic clawed at his chest as he strained his senses, every instinct in him jolting to life, feeling trapped in the suffocating void.

His spider-sense buzzed urgently, sending alarm bells through his entire body. Without fully knowing where he was, Peter threw out a line of webbing in what he hoped was the right direction. His movements were purely reactive, driven by muscle memory and the honed instincts that had saved his life countless times before.

He fired again, feeling the web attach, and he swung blindly, flinging himself out and away from the consuming darkness with all the strength he could muster.

As he tore free from the smoke, the darkness gave way to light, and Peter emerged from the cloud, his heart hammering in his chest. He gulped down the fresh air, feeling it cool and fill his lungs, burning slightly as he panted, his breaths short and ragged. For a moment, he just hung from his web, feeling the slight swing in the open air as he reoriented himself, allowing his senses to catch up and regain some equilibrium.

Peter's skin tingled with the lingering sensation of the suffocating smoke, and he glanced at his hands, almost expecting to see them covered in some residue from the unnatural darkness. But they were clean, trembling slightly as he flexed his fingers, confirming that he was out and that the world was once again solid and visible around him.

"Pete- Peter, you good?" Mr Stark asked. Before he could reply, Mr Stark cut him off. "Check on Nat and Harley, make sure they're okay" Mr stark said as he blew more of the creature away. Peter started to regain focus of whats around him, nodding, suddenly wishing that he never came in the first place.

"Peter go! you're wasting time" Mr Stark yelled after 2 minutes of Peter being in a haze. Peter stood up, and shot a web, trusting his instincts to lead him to the pair.

Peter swung against the chaos, stopping once he saw Nat and Harley helping civilians against the rubble. Peter landed infront of them, 

"Hey Nat, Harley" He waved, lifting some rubble so the civilians could escape.

"Natasha." Nat- Natasha said, her voice monotone and nonchalant. Peter felt a pang of sadness hit his heart. He and Nat-Natasha have been on a nickname basis for a year, only growing apart

and now, strangers.

'You guys doing good over there?' Peter heard a little voice come - Probably Mr Rogers -  from Natasha and Harley- their comm.

Natasha put her hand to her ear, "Just peachy. Nearly got all the civilians out of the building then it'll be clear for battle" She said, waving her arms to the civilians as in where to go for safety. Harley bolted in the building, to get the rest of the civilians, Peter followed after.

Peter barely had time to hear her as Harley bolted into the building to help with the last of the evacuation. Peter followed close behind, his gaze sweeping the building’s interior, now filled with cracks and ominous creaks as the structural integrity rapidly worsened. The entire place was one big ticking time bomb.

Suddenly, Harley came to an abrupt stop, spotting a few terrified civilians huddled under a table in the corner. He crouched down, quickly greeting them and trying to reassure them, gesturing frantically toward the exit. But his words seemed to stumble over themselves, and the civilians hesitated, glancing at each other in confusion.

Peter’s spider-sense erupted in warning, flooding his entire being with alarm. He glanced up instinctively, just in time to see a massive crack snake across the ceiling, and the building shuddered ominously.

“Get down!” Peter yelled, shooting out webbing to grab hold of the civilians, yanking them out from under the table and pulling them toward him just as the ceiling gave way above. Dust and debris cascaded down, and Peter shielded the civilians, webbing them one by one, and in quick succession, flinging them safely toward the building’s exit.

The sound of concrete buckling echoed around them, and the entire structure lurched, threatening to collapse in on itself. Peter barely had time to react as a massive chunk of the building crashed down, trapping both him and Harley beneath a mountain of rubble. The air filled with dust and smoke, and the weight of the debris settled heavily on top of them, pressing down with an almost unbearable force.

Peter gritted his teeth, feeling the crushing weight pinning him to the ground. He glanced over at Harley, whose Iron Lad suit was visibly struggling, metal groaning under the pressure. Peter’s heart sank as he realized that Harley’s suit wouldn’t withstand the sheer weight of a 65-story building collapsing on top of them.

Desperation flooded him. He strained, muscles screaming as he pressed against the rubble above him. “Harley, you need to blast out of here!” Peter shouted, his voice hoarse and frantic. “Your suit can’t hold this much longer!”

Harley looked back, eyes wide with panic. “I.. I can’t!” His voice shook. “I’m stuck; I can’t even move my arms.”

Gritting his teeth, Peter pushed harder, feeling his bones and muscles ache as he strained against the rubble. He roared, his strength fueled by sheer determination, and slowly, agonizingly, the debris began to shift. The pressure was relentless, and his body trembled from the exertion, but he pushed through the pain.

With a final, mighty shove, he lifted enough of the rubble to create a small opening. “Harley, Now!” Peter gasped, sweat trickling down his face as he struggled to hold the weight.

Harley hesitated for a split second before gathering his composure, igniting his thrusters, and blasting out through the opening Peter had created. The force of the blast sent a cloud of dust into the air, nearly blinding Peter, but he held firm, refusing to let go until he was sure Harley was free.

The building groaned once more, threatening to collapse further. Peter scrambled to push himself out, barely managing to escape as the last of the structure crashed down behind him.

Peter gasped, jolting awake beneath the wreckage, his body screaming in protest as he struggled to take in the situation. He was trapped- again. The memories threatened to drown him, the sound of crumbling concrete and the weight of despair settling over him like a shroud. His heart raced, and he fought against the panic that clawed at his throat.

“Focus, Parker! You’ve done this before!” he thought, gritting his teeth against the pain that radiated through his shoulder, his whole body. But this was worse. This wasn’t just physical pain; this was a reminder of helplessness, of being buried under weight and debris, the feeling of being utterly alone.

He pushed against the rubble, but it felt like pushing against a mountain. He could hear the faint shouts of the civilians outside, the chaos of the ongoing battle still raging above him. The fear coiled tightly in his chest, squeezing until he could hardly breathe. But he couldn't let it win. He couldn't be that person again—the one who had failed to save everyone.

“Come on!” he grunted, drawing on every ounce of strength. The familiar thrill of spider strength surged through him, fueling his resolve. “You can do this!” he shouted to himself, desperate for a shred of confidence.

With a primal roar, he pushed against the rubble, channeling his fear into force. The concrete shifted, and inch by inch, he managed to create a small gap. Just enough to squeeze through.

Finally, the weight lifted just enough for him to wriggle free. He gasped as he emerged from the wreckage, the bright lights of the day hitting him like a slap in the face. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. His whole body was in pain- its nothing a 16 yr old couldn't take-

 Peter pushed himself up, feeling the relentless ache of bruises radiating throughout his body. Each movement was a reminder of the crushing weight that had pinned him down just moments before. With every gasp for breath, he fought to suppress the memories of the warehouse that had nearly taken his life- this was worse, a deeper, more consuming kind of fear.

As he finally wriggled free from the debris, the bright lights of day hit him like a slap in the face. He staggered to his feet, disoriented and gasping, trying to regain his bearings. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, and as the world around him came into focus, an unsettling realization began to sink in: he was alone.

“Where did everyone go?” he murmured to himself, scanning the chaotic battlefield that had moments before been filled with the sounds of combat. The ground was littered with debris, charred remnants of the fight and the smell of scorched earth lingered in the air. The echoes of explosions and shouts were replaced by an oppressive silence that felt almost suffocating, leaving him with a gnawing sense of abandonment.

"No," he thought, shaking his head. "They can't have just left."

Peter swung into the air, desperation fueling his movements as he propelled himself toward Stark Tower. Each web shot sent spikes of pain through his body, but he pushed through, determined to find his team and assure himself that he wasn’t as alone as he felt. The tower loomed ahead, a testament to his past accomplishments and aspirations, but today it felt more like a prison than a sanctuary.

When he landed on the rooftop, he was met with a scene that made his heart sink. Tony was crouched by Harley, who sat on the ground with his suit slightly scorched and his face marred by shallow cuts. The way Tony hovered over him, concern etched into every feature, made Peter’s chest tighten. It was as if the space between them had grown a chasm, vast and unbridgeable.

To his dismay, Tony seemed to notice his presence. 

“What the hell were you thinking, Peter?” Tony’s voice cut through the air, sharp and accusing. He whipped around to face Peter, eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and fear. “You could have gotten him killed! You should have stayed back!”

Peter’s heart raced as he took a step back, caught off guard by the intensity of Tony's fury.

“I was trying to help!” he shot back, his voice strained.

“Help?” Tony echoed incredulously, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You call nearly getting Harley crushed by a building help? You think you can just throw yourself into danger without thinking about the consequences?”

Every word felt like a punch to Peter’s gut. The adrenaline from the battle had barely begun to fade, and now it was being replaced with a gnawing sense of shame. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but the words caught in his throat.

“I didn’t—”

Tony cut him off again, stepping closer, the heat of his anger palpable. “You’re not invincible, kid! You think because you have these powers, you can do whatever you want? You need to start thinking about the team. You’re not just a kid swinging around New York anymore; you’re part of something bigger!”

Peter flinched at the implication, feeling the weight of Tony’s words press down on him. “I know that,” he replied, but his voice sounded weak even to his own ears.

“I was just trying to protect him.”

“Protect him?” Tony spat, gesturing at Harley, who was still recovering from the chaos. “You put us all in danger, and for what? A moment of heroics? You need to learn that this isn’t just about you! You’re risking everyone’s lives for your own misguided sense of bravery!”

"Tony its okay really-"

"No Harley! he risked your life- "

As Tony continued, Peter felt his chest constrict. The rejection stung sharper than any physical blow he had ever endured. He could only watch as Tony tended to Harley, dismissing Peter like he was nothing more than an annoyance. The space between them felt more like an abyss, filled with all the doubts and insecurities that had been plaguing him since Harley moved in.

All he wanted was to be part of the team, to feel like he mattered again. But with each passing moment, it became painfully clear that the bond he once shared with Tony was fraying, and in its place was a deepening divide.

Peter turned away, the sting of tears threatening to overwhelm him. He was left standing there, feeling smaller than ever, wondering how everything had spiraled out of control. He felt a few pitying pairs of eyes shoot at him, but also ones snarling.

He groggily walked to his room, using the wall as support. He didnt know where he was going, his mind too foggy to comprehend what was infront of him.

He groggily walked to his room, using the wall as support, each step feeling like a Herculean effort. The dim lights of the hallway blurred around him, swirling into a hazy fog that matched the confusion in his mind. Pain throbbed through his body with every movement, a constant reminder of the chaos he had just escaped.

His thoughts were a jumbled mess, caught between the recent battle, Tony’s sharp words, and the image of Harley sitting there, seemingly untouchable while he felt like nothing more than a shadow. He stumbled slightly, catching himself against the cool wall, the rough surface grounding him momentarily as he fought through the pain.

The door to his room loomed ahead, but he felt so far away from it, as if it were a distant island in an endless sea of fatigue and regret. The weight of disappointment pressed heavily on his chest, making each breath feel labored. “Why did I think I could do this alone?” he thought, feeling a mix of anger and sorrow bubbling within him.

Finally, he pushed the door open and stumbled inside, the familiar clutter of his room greeting him like an old friend. He let out a shaky breath as he made his way to the bed, each movement sending fresh waves of pain radiating through his body. It felt like the very essence of exhaustion had seeped into his bones, pulling him down with an invisible force.

As he flopped onto the bed, the impact sent jolts of discomfort through his already strained muscles. He sank into the mattress, the cool fabric providing a brief sense of relief against his heated skin, but even that comfort was short-lived as the memories of the day flooded back. The battle, the collapsing building, and Tony's furious reprimand replayed in his mind like a never-ending loop.

He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to drown out the chaos within.

Why can’t I just be good enough? 

his heart heavy with unspoken fears and insecurities. But the darkness of his thoughts clung to him, wrapping around him like a shroud. The pain was more than physical; it was the ache of feeling isolated and unappreciated in a place that used to feel like home.

'I just wanted to protect everyone'

he whispered to the empty room, feeling utterly alone in his struggle. The weight of the day settled over him like a blanket, and as sleep began to pull him under, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was fighting a battle on multiple fronts, one against the enemies outside and another against the loneliness creeping into his heart.

“Peter, come on! You have to try this,” May called out, her voice warm and inviting. She was at the stove, expertly stirring a bubbling pot of larb, the fragrant blend of herbs and spices filling the room. The sight of her, hair tied up in a loose bun, an apron tied around her waist, brought a smile to his face. It felt like a slice of normalcy in a world that had become so chaotic.

Peter moved closer, taking in the vibrant colors of the fresh vegetables and the rich textures of the dish. “It smells amazing, May!” he exclaimed, excitement bubbling inside him. He grabbed a spoon and dipped it into the pot, tasting a small spoonful. The flavors burst on his tongue, bright and zesty, bringing back memories of shared meals and laughter.

“I think I might have outdone myself this time,” she teased, her eyes twinkling with pride. “But it’s all about the right balance, you know? A bit of this, a sprinkle of that.” She gestured animatedly, her enthusiasm infectious.

Peter couldn’t help but laugh. “Like being Spider-Man! Just need the right ingredients to make it all work.”

May chuckled, shaking her head. “You and your superhero metaphors. But yes, exactly! And sometimes you have to adjust on the fly. Just like cooking.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And if you mess up, it’s all about making it work anyway. You know?”

Peter nodded, feeling the warmth of her words wrap around him like a comforting blanket. They worked together, chopping fresh herbs, mixing in lime juice, and discussing everything and nothing. He felt lighter, as if the burdens he carried were evaporating in the warmth of her laughter and the camaraderie they shared.

“So, what’s new, Spider-Boy?” May asked, her tone playful yet genuine as she stirred the pot. “Any new villains to take down or are you still fighting your way through high school? hows Ned? hmm Mj?”

“A bit of both,” he replied, chuckling and turning red. “But honestly, it’s nice to just be here, cooking with you. and Ned and Mj are fineee” The weight of his responsibilities seemed to dissipate, if only for a moment.

May looked at him, a softness in her eyes. “You know I’m proud of you, right? You do so much, and you’re still just a kid trying to figure it all out.”

Peter felt a lump in his throat at her words. “Thanks, May. That means a lot.” He leaned in to give her a quick hug, feeling the warmth of her presence surrounding him.

"You're friends are there for you for a reason Peter. God, Im here for a reason, i larb- "

Suddenly, the sound of a door creaking open pulled him from the warmth of the moment. He turned, expecting to see a familiar face, but the dream shifted and began to blur. The colors around him dimmed, the laughter faded, and he felt the pull of reality creeping back in.

No! he thought, desperately wanting to hold onto this feeling of joy, this connection with May.

But as quickly as it had come, the dream slipped through his fingers like sand. The comforting kitchen, the laughter, the warmth, all vanished as he was pulled back into the solitude of his own room.

Peter’s eyes fluttered open, the remnants of the dream lingering in his mind. He felt a mix of longing and sadness, knowing that in the waking world, things were much more complicated. But that brief moment of connection with May reminded him of what he was fighting for, igniting a flicker of hope within him, even in the midst of chaos.

Peter groaned as he rolled over in bed, his body protesting with every movement. Pain radiated through his limbs, a constant reminder of the chaos from the previous day. The remnants of his dream still clung to him, but the comfort it brought quickly dissipated as reality set in. He pushed himself up, every muscle aching as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“Ugh, why does everything hurt?” he muttered to himself, rubbing his temples as if it might ease the throbbing in his head. He stood up slowly, the room spinning momentarily as he adjusted to being upright. He needed something to eat; maybe food would bring some energy back into his weary body.

With a deep breath, he made his way to the kitchen, each step feeling like a mile. The hallway felt endless, the walls closing in as he fought against the dizziness and fatigue. But he pressed on, determined to find some semblance of nourishment.

As he entered the kitchen, the bright morning light spilled through the windows, casting a warm glow over the table where the Avengers were gathered. The smell of breakfast wafted through the air, bacon sizzling, eggs being scrambled, and fresh coffee brewing cooked by Steve. Peter glanced around, noting the familiar faces, but they all seemed engrossed in their conversations, laughter echoing among them.

“Hey, look who finally decided to join us,” Tony quipped, glancing up for just a moment as if they didnt have a one-sided argument yesterday. But before Peter could respond, Tony turned back to his conversation with Natasha, a teasing smile still on his lips.

Peter felt a pang of disappointment as he moved to the refrigerator, opening the door with a slight creak. Inside, he found some leftover larb that he had taken away days ago. He grabbed the container and a fork, moving slowly to the counter.

The chatter around him continued, a comforting hum in the background, but it also felt isolating. He could hear bits of their conversations, the camaraderie that once enveloped him now seeming just out of reach. He stole a glance at Harley, who was animatedly discussing some recent battle story with Sam. They laughed, their energy contrasting sharply with his own exhaustion. It stung more than he wanted to admit, and he fought against the wave of loneliness that threatened to drown him.

Peter took a bite of the larb, the flavors bursting in his mouth, but it was hard to focus on anything other than the pain that pulsed through him. Each chew felt like a reminder of how much had changed, how distant he felt from the team he had once considered family. He couldn’t shake the feeling of being an outsider looking in, a ghost in a place that was once his home.

He took another bite, forcing himself to swallow as he leaned against the counter. The cool surface provided a momentary reprieve from the heat building within him, physically and emotionally.

As the team continued their breakfast, Peter realized he had become a mere spectator in their lives, a shadow haunting the bright moments they shared. He longed for the days when they were all united against a common threat, when he could laugh with them and feel their support. But now, as he stood there, he felt like a burden, a reminder of how fragile their lives had become.

Sighing softly, he finished his food quickly, trying to ignore the looks that occasionally darted his way, curiosity mixed with concern. But he wasn’t ready to confront their worries, not today. With his stomach slightly fuller, he decided to retreat back to his room, hoping that the solitude would bring some comfort, even if it was just an illusion. As he moved to leave, he overheard snippets of their laughter, a bittersweet reminder of what he was missing.

“You good, Peter?” Clint asked, finally noticing him as he reached the doorway. The concern in his voice was palpable, but Peter simply nodded, offering a weak smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah, just tired.”

With that, he slipped out of the kitchen, the door closing behind him with a soft click. As he made his way back to his room, the ache in his chest intensified, but he swallowed hard, determined to push through the pain. He would figure things out, just as he always did. But for now, he needed to find solace in the quiet of his own space, away from the world that felt so heavy.

Peter couldn’t help but wonder what they thought of him now. Did they see him as a liability? A burden they had to carry? He remembered how Tony had once treated him like a mentee, filled with pride at his accomplishments, but now that same pride felt replaced with frustration and disappointment. And there was Harley, who had stepped into the role Peter had once filled, effortlessly bantering with the team as if he belonged there from the start. It made Peter’s chest tighten with resentment and sorrow.

His relationship with the Avengers felt like a series of unspoken conversations, filled with tension and unacknowledged feelings. They still worried about him when he was injured, that much was clear. he could feel the glances, the hushed voices, the way they would check in on him once a month as if they suddenly remembered he was there.

But it was also clear that they were uncertain of how to bridge the growing gap. It was as if they didn’t know how to reach out without intruding on the pain he wore like a second skin.

Peter leaned against the wall of his room, staring blankly at the ground as he tried to make sense of it all. He felt caught in an inescapable loop, longing for the acceptance he once knew but fearing the pain of vulnerability that came with it. Each attempt to reconnect felt like a monumental effort, and he wasn’t sure he had the strength to keep trying. The realization that they cared but they also didn’t- weighed heavily on him, wrapping him in a sense of isolation he couldn’t shake.

With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes, wishing for the comfort of the past, where laughter came easily and bonds were unbreakable. He wanted to scream out his frustrations, to tell them that he still wanted to be a part of their lives, but he feared their response. Would they see him as weak? Or would they simply turn away, just as he felt they had begun to do?

He closed his door and sank down to the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees, letting the emotions wash over him. For a fleeting moment, he wished for the days when the Avengers were more than just heroes to him,they were his family. Now, that family felt like it was slipping through his fingers, and he didn’t know how to hold on.

Peter shot upright, his heart racing as if it were trying to escape his chest. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog of confusion from his mind. The scene around him was one of utter devastation. Buildings lay in ruins, their once-gleaming facades crumbled into heaps of concrete and twisted metal. Glass shards glinted ominously in the pale light, scattered like dangerous confetti across the pavement. Abandoned cars were mangled and crushed, remnants of a life that had once thrived in this now-dismal landscape.

The sky above was a swirling mass of gray, heavy clouds merging with a black mist that crept slowly, smothering any trace of blue. It felt like the world was being choked by the encroaching darkness, the vibrant life of the city succumbing to an oppressive gloom. Peter's breath came in short gasps as he tried to process the chaos surrounding him. His mind raced with questions.

What happened? Where was everyone? How did I get here?

He stumbled to his feet, his legs shaky beneath him, and took a step forward, but the ground felt unstable, as if it might give way at any moment. Panic surged within him, sending adrenaline coursing through his veins. He strained to hear any sounds of life, any sign that he wasn’t alone in this nightmare. But all he could hear was the distant echo of destruction, the quiet whispers of a city in ruins. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out the faint sounds of the chaos that enveloped him.

As he surveyed the destruction, fragments of memories began to flicker in his mind like static on a screen. He shook his head, trying to dispel the confusion, but the images were stubborn, slipping through his fingers like sand. He remembered fighting, an immense creature that had emerged from the shadows, a force of pure chaos. They had engaged in a brutal battle, each blow echoing like thunder, but the details were hazy, shrouded in fog.

Then, a sudden realization pierced through the haze- he had been in bed, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, when the familiar sensation of danger had pulled him from the depths of sleep. The monster was back. Instinctively, he had leapt from his bed, adrenaline fueling his movements as he hurried to put on his suit. He recalled the frantic rush, the way his heart had raced with both fear and determination.

But the next memory was jarring and disorienting: the creature had charged, and in the chaos, a massive piece of rubble had come crashing down, striking him on the head.

Everything went black. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He had been fighting, fighting to protect the city he loved, and now he was alone in the ruins of that battle, lost in the aftermath of something he could barely remember.

Panic threatened to grip him again, but he forced himself to breathe, grounding himself in the reality of the situation. He couldn't dwell on the darkness; he had to find a way out. As he took a shaky step forward, determination flared within him. He was Spider-Man, and despite the overwhelming odds, he refused to let the chaos defeat him. He would fight through this, no matter how disoriented he felt.

Peter heard the unmistakable sounds of repulsors firing and the chaotic sounds of battle erupting from the nearby street, a cacophony that sent a jolt of urgency through him. Clenching his jaw against the pain radiating from his head, he shot out his arm, instinctively launching a web line toward the nearest building. He hoped desperately that he wouldn’t fall in his current state, his head was spinning, and he could feel the fog of a concussion clouding his thoughts.

With a swift motion, he swung into action, his body responding almost on instinct despite the dull ache pulsing through him. He reached the building's edge, taking a moment to steady himself before he glanced down at the chaos unfolding below.

What he saw sent a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. Tony was in the thick of it, engaged in a fierce battle with the monstrous entity. The creature was a grotesque mass of black and red, shifting and swirling like a living nightmare. It seemed to separate itself, wrapping around Tony and attempting to engulf him completely. Iron-  Lad, despite his youthful bravado, was firing recklessly at the creature, his shots ricocheting off its resilient form without making a dent.

Peter's eyes scanned the battlefield, catching sight of Clint and Natasha fighting back to back, seamlessly blending their hand-to-hand combat skills. Clint was using Steve's shield to slice through the entity's tendrils, but it seemed futile, each blow barely phased the monstrous foe.

He noticed Sam soaring through the air, carrying Wanda effortlessly as she unleashed her magic, forcing the creature's gooey appendages into a swirling circle. Hulk was poised nearby, muscles tensed and ready to smash whatever was thrown his way. Peter felt a flicker of hope; they were all fighting together, but the situation looked dire.

As he focused on the scene below, he saw Bucky vaulting over Steve, joining the fray with precision and skill. Bucky's metal arm gleamed in the dim light, a testament to his determination to protect his friends. Peter’s heart raced, he had to join them. He couldn’t let them face this threat alone.

With a determined swing, Peter propelled himself downward, landing deftly beside Bucky and Steve. “Let’s take this thing down!” he shouted, trying to mask the tremor of pain in his voice. He used the momentum he had built up to deliver a powerful kick to the creature’s face, the impact reverberating through his leg, reminding him of his condition.

Steve took the opportunity to punch the entity back in Peter's direction, allowing Peter to regain his footing. The creature recoiled momentarily, and Peter felt a surge of triumph, but it was short-lived.

Bucky glanced over at them, nodding in acknowledgment before advancing toward the creature, raising his metal arm to deliver a devastating blow. But then, just as Bucky was about to strike, Peter's spider-sense tingled, a high-pitched warning ringing in his ears.

Danger was approaching.

Instinctively, Peter's body reacted before his mind could catch up. He dove to the side, pushing Bucky out of the line of fire as a mass of black tendrils shot forward from the creature, aiming to ensnare them both. The tendrils lashed out with a ferocity that sent a chill down Peter’s spine. He could feel the heat of danger pulsating through the air, intensifying his resolve to protect his friends.

“Bucky, watch out!” Peter shouted, urgency lacing his voice as he prepared for the next move. The battle was far from over, and they needed to work together if they stood a chance against this relentless foe.

Bucky and Steve's eyes widened at the new move the entity had pulled, a palpable tension settling in the air. The creature's form shifted, pulsating with a dark energy that radiated a menacing aura. Suddenly, a low, guttural growl erupted from its depths, reverberating through the streets like the growl of some ancient beast awakened from a long slumber.

The black goo surrounding them began to ripple and move, rushing toward the central mass of the creature with an eerie fluidity. Peter’s heart raced as he watched in horror; the monster was feeding off its own remnants, gathering strength, the dark tendrils stretching and writhing like a living organism. With each second, it grew larger, taller, and more imposing, morphing into a grotesque titan that towered over the battlefield.

“Spider-Man…” the creature growled, its voice a deep, menacing rumble that seemed to resonate within Peter’s very bones. The creature’s eyes locked onto him, glinting with malice as it seemed to sense his fear, feeding off it like a predator relishing its prey.

Peter instinctively took a step back, his instincts screaming at him to flee. His spider-sense blared like an alarm, urging him to escape, but he was rooted to the spot. He felt a cold sweat trickle down his back, the realization hitting him hard.

the rest of his teammates had nothing left to fight with. They were scattered, recovering from the onslaught, and the monster was fixated on him alone.

“Didn’t know you talked, let alone, know me!” Peter quipped, forcing a grin despite the tremor in his voice. The bravado felt thin and shaky, an almost desperate mask to conceal the fear clawing at his insides. As he spoke, he could feel the oppressive weight of the creature’s presence, the black smoke swirling ominously around it, filling the air with a noxious haze that stung his lungs and obscured his vision.

The creature towered over him, its mass writhing as if it were composed of countless shadows intertwined. The black smoke erupted from its form like a dark cloud, obscuring everything around them. It billowed and churned, blocking out the sun and casting an eerie twilight over the battlefield. The atmosphere grew thick with a palpable dread, a tangible sense of despair settling over Peter and his friends.

Peter could see the fear reflected in the eyes of his teammates, the way their bodies instinctively shifted, preparing for the worst. They were all too aware of what this creature was capable of, and their collective resolve felt shaken. As the monster's growl reverberated in his ears, Peter clenched his fists, pushing back against the rising tide of panic threatening to overwhelm him.

“Alright, focus, Parker,” he muttered under his breath, trying to rally his thoughts. He scanned the area, searching for anything he could use to his advantage. But all he could see was the monstrous entity, growing larger and more formidable by the second, its shadow engulfing him.

With a quick glance back at Bucky and Steve, Peter steeled himself. They had fought against overwhelming odds before; he could do it again. But this time, he felt a fracture in their unity, a chasm of doubt and fear that was new and disconcerting. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to steady his racing heart. He was Spider-Man; he had to believe that he could turn the tide, that together, they could overcome this monstrous threat.

Then, a blast went through the creature when it finished gathering its black substance. It quickly turned to the threat, finding the source being 2 people covered in iron.

"Parker this isnt above your pay grade, leave this to the adults" Tony said, blasting mini missles to the creature as if it'll work. Peter suddenly felt a surge of anger flow on him. Peter couldnt fight the monster but Harley can? did Tony forget that Peter had been spider-man for 2 years and Harleys been iron-lad for 2 months? and Tonys calling HIM a child??

The monster emits a low growl, turning back around to Peter, ignoring the shots that the 2 iron people are giving it.

Spider-man.

fresh..

spider-man's right there-

defend 

The monster quickly raises its unlimbly fist. But Peter couldnt move.

Peter felt an overwhelming sense of dread wash over him. He wanted to move, to dodge, to fight, but his body felt as if it were encased in concrete. No matter how much his spider-sense screamed at him, warning him of the impending doom, he remained paralyzed, trapped in a moment that stretched into eternity.

Around him, the world was engulfed in chaos. Flames licked at the edges of the buildings, casting long, grotesque shadows that danced like phantoms in the dark. The air was thick with the acrid stench of smoke and destruction, the remnants of a city caught in the throes of despair. The once vibrant skyline now loomed ominously against the backdrop of a fading sun, shrouded in a murky haze that turned day into night.

Peter's heart raced, and a cold sweat trickled down his brow as he fought against the invisible chains binding him in place. Memories flooded his mind, vivid and jarring: the feeling of power coursing through his veins, the rush of swinging through the city, the thrill of being Spider-Man. But all of that felt so distant now, like a fading echo of a life he could barely grasp.

He could see his teammates moving, each of them battling against the darkness that surrounded them, but it felt like he was stuck in a glass box, an observer to their struggle rather than a participant. The monster’s grotesque form loomed ever closer, its malicious intent radiating off it like heat from a fire, and Peter's breath hitched in his throat.

He was useless. The thought gnawed at him, a bitter truth he couldn't escape. How many times had he faced down villains, fought against insurmountable odds, only to feel this hollow, crushing weight pressing down on him now? In that moment, all his doubts bubbled to the surface, magnified by the darkness creeping in around him. He felt small and insignificant, like a mere boy lost in the shadow of giants.

As the creature’s massive fist descended, Peter felt a surge of panic and frustration- an emotion he couldn't articulate, locked away in a prison of his own making. The darkness enveloped him, and he couldn’t tell if it was the monster or the fears he harbored deep within himself that were closing in. 

Suddenly, the goo turns blue- then pink- then purple orange- almost as if it.. glitches?

The monster shoots his fist to the floor instead of shooting his fist at Peter, suddenly being in pain, groaning. It raises its fist again, intention to punch Peter away. Peter can hear the echoing calls of his teammates, screaming WHY he isnt moving, or doing anything!

The gooey monster reared its massive, sludge-covered fist back, aiming straight for Peter, who remained frozen in place. His limbs felt like lead, his mind trapped in a slow-motion reel of helplessness. He closed his eyes, surrendering to the inevitable, bracing himself for the crushing impact that would end this nightmare. His heartbeat thundered in his chest, pounding in his ears as he prepared himself, resignation settling in like a heavy weight.

But the impact never came.

Confused, Peter hesitated before opening his eyes, finding himself.. untouched, still standing. He blinked, the chaos around him snapping back into focus, and his gaze landed on a striking sight: intricate lines of orange energy, glowing with intense, mystical heat, encased the creature's monstrous fist, holding it inches from his face. The fiery ribbons crackled and twisted, wrapping themselves around the creature’s arm like chains forged from pure light.

Dazed, Peter followed the glowing tendrils back to their source, his gaze widening as he took in the portal behind the monster. It hovered mid-air, a swirling vortex of vivid blue with an inner ring of orange embers dancing around the edges, casting an eerie glow over the battlefield. The portal’s surface rippled like molten glass, a shimmering window to somewhere beyond the chaos and ruin around him.

Peter’s eyes widened as he staggered back, his senses firing all at once. Time felt distorted, each second stretching as he watched the massive figure launch out of the portal, slicing through the air like a dark blade and slamming into the creature with a force that rattled the ground beneath them. The figure’s impact missed him by mere inches, close enough for Peter to catch a fleeting glimpse of a face partially obscured, intense eyes staring back with purpose and ferocity.

The figure’s suit was like nothing Peter had ever seen, a deep blackish-blue that absorbed light, contrasted with thick red lines that framed where the eyes would be, creating a sharp, almost menacing silhouette. It was familiar, yet alien. And then, in a fluid motion, the figure twisted midair, grappling the monster with an impressive strength, forcing it down with brutal efficiency.

Peter instinctively shot out a web, yanking himself closer, adrenaline overpowering the ache in his body as he moved with urgency. Behind him, he vaguely registered the gasps of the Avengers scattered around the battlefield, their surprise evident. But he barely heard them, his attention laser-focused on the scene unfolding before him. The figure held the gooey creature down, its writhing form straining against the hold, but the newcomer’s grip didn’t falter.

Whoever this was, they were fighting with a controlled fury that demanded respect, and, as Peter got closer, he couldn’t shake the strange sense of familiarity. He landed a few feet away, eyes locked onto the figure, feeling the electric charge of uncertainty and anticipation rippling through the air.

He gets closer, and sees the figure slowly get up. Ruble falling off the mans digital red shining cape- digital?

Peter flinches as the man suddenly tense his hands- and claws appear on his hands. what Peter eyes is the orange- grey watch on his wrists, a hologram..? maybe?..

The cape suddenly dissapeas down to up as the man stands up straight, and Peters instincts tell him to get closer.

"im sorry but who are you?" Peter asks, puting his hand on his chin.

"its classified" The man says, a deep raspy voice. Peter almost snorts.

"You're.. Batman"

"No" a sarcastic, confused voice returns

"Blue panther?"

"No" coming out more stern

"The Mandalorian."

"yeah, stop."

"Darth Maul??" Peter says as he puts both his hands infront of him and bends his knees abit, an action to see if he got something confusing, right.

The figure turned to face Peter, his voice low and calm despite the chaos surrounding them.

"I'm from a different dimension."

Peter blinked, taking in the man’s suit now that he was fully facing him. The outfit was sleek and futuristic, like nothing Peter had seen before, crafted from a material that seemed to shift and absorb the light. It clung to the figure with a streamlined design, each detail woven in perfect symmetry, somehow managing to look both menacing and awe-inspiring.

The suit’s base was a deep, almost metallic blackish-blue that had a faint sheen under the smog-filled sky, but it was the vivid red markings that truly caught Peter’s eye. Thick lines of red started from his shoulders, wrapping down his arms like veins of raw power. The design moved almost organically, rippling slightly as if it were alive. On his back, a crimson spine-like symbol traced his vertebrae, giving him an almost otherworldly appearance- something primal yet advanced.

But the centerpiece, what held Peter’s attention the most, was the massive red spider emblem on his chest. Unlike his own suit’s simple spider symbol, this one was bold and stylized, its legs stretching wide and angled sharply, as if ready to lunge. It was embedded into the fabric itself, not stitched on but rather part of the suit’s very structure, adding an intimidating weight to his chest. The eyes of the mask were a sharp, bright white, narrow and intense, framed by red lines that extended down his face in a way that made his gaze seem even more piercing.

Peter was struck by the powerful, almost haunting look of this Spider-Man. This suit wasn’t just for protection, it was a statement, a display of strength and control. There was something about this figure that commanded attention, exuding a level of experience and gravitas that made Peter realize this was someone who had seen far more battles than he had.

It was as if this Spider-Man, whoever he was, had been through dimensions unknown, fighting creatures like the one pinned to the ground, perhaps even greater foes. And in that moment, Peter could only watch, both intimidated and inspired, as the figure met his gaze steadily, unflinching.

"you are?? wow..!! actually im not surprised" Peter lets his sarcasm fade away at the end.

"My name.. is Miguel O'Hara. i made an elite strike force dedicated to the security of the multiverse-" Miguel guy gets cut off,

"actually forget it- can you go in any dimension you want with that watch..?" Peter puts one arm forward without realising it, indirectly wanting to touch it, but the Miguel guy puts his arm behind him.

"Its.. much cooler than a watch" Miguel sounded almost offended.

"Oookayy then, suits you.. Look there is a.. big goo-ey monster running around here, i have to bring the justice soo if you dont mind-" Peter starts to walk on the side of Miguel guy but gets cut off,

"Its alright now, i'll take it from here" Miguel guy says, and Peter sees the Goo-ey monster start to tower behind Miguel guy.

"Okay" Peter raises a brow, "knock yourself out" he tilts half his body to lean on the side abit

"why-" Miguel frowns, "why'd you say it like that-"

Then, the black goo-ey creature punches Miguel guy into the rubble, and he groans, 

"you're not funny!"

Peter huffs a laugh, "i dunno!" as he peers over to see where Miguel guy landed. He momentarily forgot the avengers were there, watching him as some were sprawled on the ground, clutching some of their wounds. He makes eye contact with steve, whos eyes got wider. Huh.

It was as if time slowed to a crawl again, each second stretching as Peter took in every detail of what unfolded. Another portal snapped open, vibrant orange light spilling into the smoky battlefield, casting a blue tint across his vision. His spider-senses tingled sharply, alerting him, but this time… it wasn’t directed at him.

With a sudden flash, a motorcycle burst out of the portal, its sleek, futuristic design glinting under the dim, chaotic sky. It moved with a ferocity, its engine roaring as the wheels bit into the debris-covered ground. At its helm was a woman with a striking presence, a cascade of wild, voluminous hair framed by a bright red headband, and a pair of bold, yellow sunglasses reflecting the ominous darkness around them. She wore a red suit, vivid and powerful against the grime and destruction surrounding them, her attire emitting a certain confidence that Peter couldn’t ignore.

Peter’s eyes widened as she steered the motorcycle with precision, leaning into the turn, her entire focus locked on the creature that had turned its attention toward him again. The monster’s gooey black tendrils had started to swell, coiling and stretching forward, intent on striking at him with unrelenting force.

But she was faster.

Without a second’s hesitation, she revved the motorcycle, accelerating toward the creature’s mass of dark goo with deadly accuracy. Her stance was poised, her body moving with the bike as she leaned forward, her form an arrow of determination aimed directly at the entity. Just as the monster’s towering arm began its descent, her motorcycle collided with the gooey black mass, cutting through it like a blade. The impact sent shockwaves through the creature, forcing it to recoil as splatters of its dark essence erupted in every direction, momentarily weakened.

Peter stood transfixed, barely comprehending how close he had been to being struck. This stranger- bold, fierce, and unwavering—had intercepted the attack without hesitation, redirecting the creature’s fury with a courage he admired instantly. Her eyes, half-shielded behind those yellow sunglasses, darted in his direction for the briefest of moments, a nod of acknowledgment before she turned her attention back to the beast.

She then points out her hand and webs shoot out her fingertips- so cool.. Then the woman jumps back on the motorcycle and stops it, side eyeing Peter but giving him a unoticable smirt from the cool action she just did.

"Spider-woman." She spoke.

"Woah.. Peter-boy- i mean uh- spiderman-" Peter stumbles on his words. His eyes trace down to her stomach and he raises his brow.

"wait are you- uhh..." His voice shakes, but pointing to her belly. If she wasnt, it'd seem like a rude action and if she wasnt, he'd actually bury himself down 7ft with his aunt. 

"Oh this?" Her voice brightens. Peter almosts feels his body sigh out of relief. "we dunno the sex yett, my husband wants it to be a surprise" She snorts, "hes rlly corny hehe BUT so hot!" She rubs her belly affectionately.

"Will you adopt me?"

"what?"

"Hey, I could use some help here!" the guy in the suit, Miguel, shouted over the roar of the chaos. His voice was tinged with urgency, a rough edge that only spurred Peter and Spider-Woman into action.

Peter’s head snapped toward the sound. Without a second thought, he raised his arm, shooting out a web and swinging toward the commotion a few buildings away. He barely noticed Spider-Woman at first, her red-suited figure speeding alongside him on her motorcycle, deftly weaving through the rubble-strewn streets below.

As they approached, the scene was more intense than Peter had expected. Miguel was practically clinging to the monster, his suit smeared in thick, glistening black goo that clung to him like tar, weighing down his arms and legs. He grappled with the monster’s limbs, the dark substance pulsing and writhing as if alive, trying to pull him into its depths. The sheer force of Miguel’s resistance was impressive, but even he looked like he was barely holding his own.

Spider-Woman didn’t hesitate. She revved her motorcycle, the engine roaring louder as she gunned it straight for the monster, despite the creature’s colossal size. It loomed over her, its form now easily thirteen times her height, each movement sending waves of black goo rippling across its body. But she was unfazed. With a practiced ease, she shot a web toward a nearby building, anchoring herself as she sped forward, using the tension to swing her bike into a sharper trajectory.

Peter joined the attack, aiming for the creature’s eyes, his webs splattering across its twisted face. He pulled with all his strength, yanking the creature’s head toward him. It lurched, momentarily thrown off balance, its inky tendrils twitching in disorientation. Miguel used the moment to break free from the goo smeared on his suit, leaping onto the back of Spider-Woman’s motorcycle as she skidded past, her web anchoring them to a nearby lamppost just in time.

Peter’s fists flew as he continued the assault, delivering kick after punch despite the creature’s goo sticking to him. The black substance clung to his arms and legs, its viscous tendrils coiling around him, slowing him down. Each hit felt heavier, the resistance mounting as he struggled to stay agile, the goo wrapping tighter with each blow. But Peter didn’t stop, he couldn’t stop.

Below, Miguel and Spider-Woman watched, their expressions a mixture of impression and urgency. Miguel clenched his fists, clearly itching to rejoin the fight but momentarily trapped by his own tactical necessity. Spider-Woman, her gaze focused and unwavering, revved the motorcycle once more, prepared for another strike.

Peter’s breaths came in heaving gasps as he twisted and fought, kicking and punching his way through the layers of sticky black ooze. The creature roared, its booming growl echoing through the shattered streets. But Peter just kept going, each movement fueled by the raw determination to protect the team he fought alongside, even if, at that moment, he was the one bearing the brunt of the attack.

"what about him?" Spider-women turns her head to Miguel Guy in which he gave her an instant 'no.'

"we could use the help" 

"No" his voice raising the slightest,

"is it cuz she called u batman?"

"No!"

"Do you say anything but no?"

"No- yes!"

"Why not?"

"Fine."

"yes!!"

Peter shot webs toward the buildings on either side, securing the goo monster’s arms as it struggled, screeching as its limbs stretched and pulled against the bindings. The creature writhed, trying to break free, but Peter held his ground, straining to keep the webs taut.

Miguel dropped down from a nearby rooftop, his expression tense as he reached into a compartment on his suit, pulling out a strange, pentagon-shaped device that glowed with an ominous red hue. He tossed it toward the monster, and instantly, a shimmering, purplish-red barrier enveloped the creature, locking it within a force field.

Peter let out a heavy sigh, wincing as he loosened his webbing. “You couldn't have done that, like, a few minutes earlier?”

Miguel raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t exactly have a free hand until now,” he replied with a smirk, brushing off some stray goo from his arm. “But hey, you held your own pretty well. Not bad for a kid.”

Peter rolled his eyes, catching his breath. “Right. Just another day at work. You guys have a thing for dramatic entrances or what?”

Spider-Woman hopped down from her bike, looking between the two with a raised brow. “Seems to me you could use a little more backup than you let on, Spider-Boy.”

Before Peter could respond, he noticed shadows approaching. Turning, he found the Avengers behind him, their faces painted with a mixture of surprise, irritation, and just the barest hint of concern. Tony hovered a bit closer to Harley, one arm infront of Harley as if attempting to shield him, and glancing between Peter and the strange duo that had appeared to fight alongside him.

Tony frowns. "Who are they Peter. You nearly got Harley killed when i clearly told you to watch. over. him." Tony spat out, now standing infront of Peter, as if.. Peter was the threat.

Natasha crossed her bruised arms, nodding toward the new arrivals. “who are they, Peter?” she practically growled, putting an intimidating facade. She spits his name out with Venom.

Peter hesitated, glancing at Miguel guy and Spider-Woman, unsure himself. But he couldn’t help but notice the avengers’ guarded stances, the way they all seemed to keep their distance, only inching slightly closer to keep an eye on him, still wary but watching.

He heard a voice behind him, Miguel, and he turned around.

"Lyla, scan this place." Miguel said, and Orange holograms scanned the area.

"No further anomalies, remains intact" A hologram says above Miguel guys shoulder

Suddenly, a blue portal opens up from behind him, igniting orange now. Peter looks at the Avengers faces, how on guard they looked. How they looked ready to strike them.. even Peter. They stare at Peter with a mixture of confusion, some even thinking he's betrayed them, and sorrow.

Natasha stood rigid, fingers twitching near the grip of her pistol, her eyes narrowing as they darted from Miguel to Spider-Woman. Tony had shifted into a near-combat stance, his iron-clad form protectively angled in front of Harley, his suit humming with the faint buzz of energy, ready to shield or strike at any moment despite Harley’s own armored exterior.

Steve’s expression was steely as he raised his shield in a defensive posture, feet planted firmly, assessing the newcomers with a hard, suspicious stare. Bucky’s metal arm glinted in the low light, lifted slightly in front of him, each finger flexing and tensing as if bracing for the fight that could break out any second.

Clint, ever the sharpshooter, held his bow low but taut, a single arrow already notched, fingers poised to draw at a moment's notice. Every subtle movement of his hands suggested he could snap into action at the slightest threat.

Sam stood at the ready, his wings spread out and gleaming, fingers positioned carefully on his wing controls, prepared to take off or dive if necessary with Wanda. The absence of Bruce was conspicuous, but everyone knew that somewhere nearby, Hulk was lurking, his presence more felt than seen- a storm waiting to explode at the first sign of hostility.

Tension buzzed in the air, thick and humming like the calm before a lightning storm.

And-.. and they were all staring at him. With those feral stares.

Miguel and Spider-woman stand infront of the portal, they both stare at Peter with empathy.

Peter felt the words slip out before he even knew he’d spoken. “Why do you guys look at me like that?” he whispered, his voice barely cutting through the heavy silence between them. The tension in the air was suffocating, each Avenger staring at him with a guarded, distant look. The way they positioned themselves, braced and poised as if they were ready to defend against an enemy instead of just… him.

A flicker of pain shot through Peter’s chest, sharp and raw, as he took in the scene. Natasha’s hand hovered over her gun, her expression neutral yet wary. Tony stood stiffly, casting a shadow over Harley as if shielding him, his armor glinting in the faint light. Peter could see Harley's face, hidden behind the metal of his own suit, and even though it was expressionless, Peter knew he was probably thinking how much Peter had messed up. Steve’s shield was raised, solid and unwavering. Every stance, every glance sent a wave of realization crashing over Peter.

He felt like he was standing on the other side of a wall he’d never seen before, a wall that had been built between him and them. The people he once trusted with everything, who once trusted him, seemed so foreign now. They looked at him as if he were a stranger, an intruder in a place he no longer belonged.

His heart broke at the sight.

A lump grew in Peter’s throat, his chest tightening painfully as he forced himself to hold back tears. He blinked rapidly, hoping they wouldn’t notice the welling in his eyes. But it was no use. His gaze dropped to the ground, and he felt the weight of the past few months settle over him- the dismissive looks, the excuses he made for them, the way they always put Harley first. Peter had tried to brush it off, to convince himself it didn’t matter, that they’d come around eventually. But standing here, with his so-called teammates looking at him like that, all his excuses unraveled.

He swallowed, the ache growing deeper. A hollow feeling settled in his chest, whispering that maybe he wasn’t just imagining it. Maybe he had always been an outsider, a placeholder for something better. Maybe he was… replaceable.

Spider-Woman gave Miguel a sidelong glance, eyebrows raised, as if silently urging him to say something. Miguel shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze. He looked back at Peter, who stood there, shoulders slumped and head down, an exhausted and defeated figure. There was a flicker of something unspoken in Miguel’s eyes- understanding, maybe, or the faintest shade of empathy.

Clearing his throat, Miguel broke the silence. “Well,” he said, voice gruff but somehow softer than before,

“join the club.” He reached into his suit and pulled out a sleek, holographic wristband, its lights flickering with a faint glow as it caught the sunlight. With a casual toss, he threw it to Peter.

Peter blinked, startled, but his reflexes kicked in just in time to catch it. He stared down at the wristband, still processing Miguel’s words and the weight of this small device in his hand. He glanced back up, finding Miguel watching him with a hint of encouragement hidden behind his stoic expression.

Spider-Woman nodded toward Peter, her face set with something that felt close to solidarity. “If you’re feeling like you don’t fit here, maybe it’s because there’s a bigger world out there for you,” she said quietly.

Peter’s fingers curled around the wristband, and, for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt a glimmer of possibility that maybe,- just maybe, there was somewhere he truly belonged.

Peter stared at the orange wristband, its holographic shimmer catching the light in mesmerizing patterns. It looked almost ethereal, like it belonged in a sci-fi movie rather than on his wrist. It was a stark contrast to the heavy weight of his emotions. The realization that this was the same device Miguel wore made it all the more significant, yet it only deepened the furrow of his brows.

As he turned the wristband over in his hands, the weight of its meaning pressed down on him, mingling with the pitying look Spider-Woman cast his way. It was a reminder of his isolation, the gulf that had grown between him and the team he once felt a part of. The empathy in her eyes felt almost suffocating, stirring up a cocktail of resentment and sadness within him.

Miguel stepped toward the glowing portal, the edges flickering like flames before swallowing him whole.

Spider-Woman hesitated for just a moment, casting one last look at Peter before following Miguel into the swirling orange light.

Peter stood alone, the chaos of the battlefield fading into a heavy silence around him. The world felt heavier, as if the atmosphere itself was pressing down, and the weight of the wristband in his hand felt like a symbol of everything he had lost. He looked down at the device, uncertainty churning in his gut. What did it mean for him? Would it lead him to a place where he felt whole again, or just further into the unknown?

“Pete…” Tony mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper, but it cuts through the tension like a knife. Peter’s heart aches at the sound; it’s been months since he’s heard that name.

“Kid… don’t do it…” Steve’s voice is slow and deliberate, almost pleading, filled with a sincerity that Peter can’t ignore.

Peter looks at the wristband, then at them.

"You guys changed. We were good, Now we're not." Peter directs a glare to Harley, in which Harley takes a few steps back and the team notice, the tension in the air palpable. “you guys ignore me, hate me, act like im not there, then tell me not to leave!”

 “None of us think that, Peter!” Tony interjects, his voice sharp and filled with frustration. “You don’t get it. This isn’t just about you, it’s about the team. You can’t just walk away!”

Peter shakes his head, feeling the heat rise in his chest. “You don’t get it! You’ve been pushing me away for months, acting like I don’t belong here anymore because of Harley! Maybe I don’t want to be part of a team that doesn’t want me!” Peter feels abit selfish.

“That’s not fair,” Steve counters, stepping forward with his shield raised slightly. “We’ve all been through a lot. But running away isn’t the answer. You’re stronger than this, Pete, and you can't blame Harley for something that isnt his fault.”

“Stronger?” Peter scoffs, bitterness lacing his words. “You’re the ones who decided I was too weak to fight alongside you. I didn’t ask for your protection! I’m not some fragile kid!”

“Exactly!” Tony’s voice rises, anger crackling in the air. “You think you can just jump into danger without thinking? Look what happened to Harley! Do you want that to be you next?”

Peter’s chest tightens, but he can’t back down now. “So it’s okay for Harley to fight but not me? That’s rich coming from you! You’re just mad because I didn’t wait for your orders!”

“Harley’s been trained for this!” Tony shoots back, his face flushed with anger. “He’s had time to adapt. You think you can just throw yourself into a fight without consequences? You think you can take on a monster like that on your own?”

“Maybe I’m not the one who needs protecting!” Peter retorts, his voice rising, glaring at the mention of Harley again. “i've been doing this for 2 years! Harleys been doing this for 2 months! I can handle myself!”

“Clearly, you can’t!” Tony snaps, stepping closer, his frustration palpable. “You think I want to see you like this?” He gestures to Harley, who is still recovering from the earlier attack, a reminder of what happens when things go wrong.

Peter feels the weight of Tony’s words, the sting of truth mixed with anger. “You’re more concerned about your precious 'son' than you are about me! I’m not some pawn you can move around anymore”

“Peter, this isn’t a game!” Clint interjects, his voice firm. “You’re not invincible! You’re human, and we care about you! But we can’t protect you if you refuse to let us in!”

Peter’s frustration boils over, and he steps forward, fists clenched. “Maybe I don’t want your protection! Maybe I’m tired of being treated like im nothing!”

“Is that what you think this is about?” Tony steps closer, his expression intense. “You think we hate you?”

“Because you do!” Peter yells, the raw emotion spilling over. 

“Because you're being stupid right now!” Tony fires back, frustration etched on his face. “because you're making a decision, that if Harley went through the same thing, he would instantly to come back to us!”

Peter scoffs, shaking his head, tears spilling down his cheek.

“You throw that wristband, or you throw EVERYTHING away!” Tony’s voice rises in disbelief. “You’re the only one walking away, Pete! You’re the one making this choice! You’re throwing away everything we built together!”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you started treating me like an outsider.” Peter says, using his arm to wipe his tears of frustration 

With every word, the tension escalates, and it feels as if the air around them is electrified. The other Avengers watch, a mixture of concern and confusion in their eyes, but the argument has consumed them both. Harleys standing behind Tony, guilty.

“Enough!” Steve finally shouts, stepping between them, trying to defuse the situation. “Peter, you need to step away from that portal”

But Peter is too far gone, emotions raging like a storm inside him, and he turns around to face the portal.

“Dont you dare Peter” Tony exclaims, his voice filled with raw emotion. “We’re your family, Peter!”

Peter shakes his head, feeling trapped in a whirlwind of anger and hurt. He tilts his head to his right to give them a slow glance,

“If family is what you call this, my family ended when Harley joined.” With a final glare at his teammates, he turns his head towards the portal, resolve hardening in his chest.

As he takes a step toward the swirling orange light

He puts the wristband on. He kinda feels bad for not telling Ned or Mj in advance- kinda.

He can here Tonys voice breaking behind him, saying his name, telling him not to do it. He can hear the tears that are streaming down Tonys cheek

Oh well

his loss.

Peter takes a step in the portal.

~