Peter Parker-616 = Spider-Man: Mid-Life Crisis

...Gotham, huh?

May I advertise my series of fanfictions? 😉

If there's no CFM appearance soon with her pissed off at her variant's wedding without being invited

G H O S T

This beginning point of a messy stories reached 6400+ hits?!? How in the--

Thanks for riding along with me on this, guys. It means a lot.

Chapters: 5/5 Fandom: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Peter Parker/Gwen Stacy, Glimpse of Ben Parker/May Parker Characters: Peter Parker, Gwen Stacy, Edith, Some thief Additional Tags: Post-Spider-Man: No Way Home (Movie), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, EDITH got a personality from yours truly, A bit science heavy, The Avengers are just decorations, Kinda like how an alien invasion in Insomniac's Spider-Man 2 happened and none were found, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault Series: Part 1 of Legacy-Verse Summary:

Peter Parker is just a college student, albeit one that take double majors approach with Biochemistry and Engineering.

Peter Parker is, no, was, an Avenger.

Peter Parker used to mean something, to numbers of people.

Peter Parker is also, Spider-Man; a persona that exists in a constant alternative state between loved/hated by New Yorkers.

Peter Parker was given a chance, albeit tragically, to be born anew in a world oblivious(ed) to his indentity. And he sure was not going to waste it.

** The mention of SA will only be in the final chapter **

CONTEXT for this universe>>> 1. Wanda Vision never happened. 2. Dr. Strange: Multiverse of Madness never happened. 3. The stories derived directly from the moment Strange cast the Oblivion Curse and branched into this continuity, and anything MCU released after NWH was considered non-related to this series.

Original design Spidey suit

RED Carbon Fiber

BLACK Reinforced fiber

GREY Flexible Carbon Fiber

WHITE Injected STF(Shear Thickening Fluid) act as additional armor

She hums along as his breathing becomes steady. She paused for a while, unsure of the underlying implications even if her audience of one might not even understand all of it.

Eventually, Felicia found the courage to push forward, embracing it with her beating heart.

Dans le bleu de l'immensité

(In the blue of all immensity)

Dans le ciel, plus de problèmes

(In the sky, no more problems)

Mon…amour, crois-tu que…nous nous aimons ?

(My…love, do you think…we love each other?)

Dieu réunit…ceux qui s'aiment

(God brings together…those who love each other)

She whispered the last note with a quenching in her heart, her hold on the man in her arms tightened, yet it seemed to not be a bother at all as he had already fallen asleep with a slightly less frown on his forehead. “Bonne nuit, mon Araignée…” she whispered into his scalp, nesting her face there as she closed her eyes, unsure of what tomorrow would bring.

Rose O'Hara

21st September 1861

It has been three years since I’ve visited you last, dear diary.

Three years since that horrible night.

Victor Creed came back, and he slaughtered everyone on the plantation.

The workers.

Master John.

Mistress Elizabeth.

Aunty Gilda. Martha.

Even my father, and my mother.

Mister Bert sacrificed himself to hold that daemon back while he told me and James to run away as far as we could and to not stop until we could not anymore. We did, while the scream of death shadowed us like a hellhound.

Come November will be my sixteenth winter, as well as James's.

We stay at a kind gentleman’s house near a coal mine, where James works as a foreman for the kind man.

Mister Deveraux, one of Master John’s associates, recognized James while we were scraping for changes and food in port towns along the Missouri River.

I almost had to sell my body countless times, but James always saved me from such a fate with his family’s heirlooms and whatever valuables he could get his hands on from the ignorant rich people coming and going.

On the eve of my birthday, I want to tell him how I feel.

For he’s a caring and loving man I couldn’t ask for a better replacement.

And I so want him to know that.

Silly, I even thought about buying a pair of silver bands for him and myself.

I must get to bed, dear diary, wish me luck.

…

22nd September 1861

He said he felt the same for me!

Oh, dear diary, I am so happy!

I’ve rarely seen him smile since we ran away from the plantation, I saw it again today and it was as beautiful as before.

Oh, dear diary, he’s so awkward with the kisses, so was I.

But they are the sweetest memories we will share, yet.

We are going to a dinner at Mister Deveraux’s saloon in two days.

I must buy a new dress, even though he said I would look good in a potato sack. Silly man.

Good night, dear diary.

…

28th September 1861

I hope you can see.

James bought the silver bands that I have been eyeing today, and I let him put one on my hand!

Oh, dear diary, it is lovely.

He asked Mister Deveraux to be a witness as he was proposing to me at the saloon, and his friends from the mine were there as well, cheering on us.

I felt like I was going to explode, dear diary, I don’t think I will be able to take a rest tonight as my heart is still racing.

…

1st October 1861

The wedding was lovely last night.

It was not a grand event like I’d dreamt of when I was but a silly girl, but having seen James there on the altar before me surrounded by the friends we have come to know here brought joyous tears to me all the same.

He was a kind and gentle man, despite his scary visage.

Oh, the muscles on him make me blush like a virgin maiden again just thinking about them.

His body was very warm, and perfect for the night as he gathered me into his arms, whispering sweet words to my ears.

We talked about building a family this morning, and I am touched that James wanted to name our firstborn after either his mother or my father, Elizabeth or Logan.

I feel like the luckiest woman to have been loved by this man.

…

29th October 1861

I was very busy, sorry for neglecting you again, dear diary.

I woke up this morning with an urge to empty my stomach, yet nothing came out, James quickly took me to a clinic nearby.

I am pregnant with James’s child, dear diary!

Oh, Almighty Lord in Heaven, I am happy!

The doctor told us that the incoming birth around July might prove to be difficult for a woman of my stature and age, but James promised to do anything in his power to ensure the safety of our child and me.

He talked with Mister Deveraux today and took on a job inside the shaft as well to save more money for the doctor’s fee in the future.

I am worried, of course, but James knows what he is doing.

He is a peculiarly strong man, despite the weakness in his health I witnessed in our childhood.

Now, my job is to keep little Logan or Elizabeth safe and strong, so that it can be loved by a wonderful father, of my beloved husband.

Calling him that still made me giggle like a teen, oh dear!

“Where the hell did ya get that, Kid?” his gravel and whispery voice roused her up like a good electrical shock as she instinctively threw the journal away in a poor attempt to hide it.

“In the closet.” Laura curtly replied, hiding her eyes from the smoldering gaze of her DNA donor.

“You and your bullshitting,” Logan finally breathed out with a chuckle as he casually approached the journal and picked it up, a nostalgic hue clouding his eyes a moment as he opened the first few pages with a sad smile. “Nosy little weasel, aren’t ya?” Logan commented lightheartedly while stashing the journal into the pocket of his leather jacket before making a way toward the door “Dinner’s almost done, get down there and eat.”

“You are not my dad.”

“Jean says otherwise,” the burly man shrugged his shoulders and was about to pass the threshold.

“What happened?”

“Hmm?”

“After the end of October, if you’re gonna take that journal away, you might as well spoil the rest for me.” The girl got up from the bed and approached him with those determined eyes, crossing her arms with a little lift of her demanding eyebrows “It’s not like the sappy love story is interesting or—"

“Creed.” Logan simply replied with a single word, spoken with an immeasurable amount of hatred seething inside his chest. And then he disappeared from the second floor, heading down the stairs.

A Day Off

“How’s the dinner?” Logan asked her as they walked alongside one another on the edge of the lake, cones of ice cream in their hands. Storm got her white tank top on, showing her toned stomach, and low-waistline denim jeans, braving the summer sun casually while letting her silver hair flow freely with the caressing wind. She’s a sight to behold, everybody agrees on this, and many looked up to her as a goddess justifiably.

‘You know she fancies you, right?’

‘Yeah, sure, Furball.’ He mused with a chuckle.

“It’s my mother’s idea, actually,” Ororo relayed “She's an old friend with Queen Regent Ramonda, and both agree there’s no one else the Golden Tribe should be welcome as his consort.”

“So, it’s political?”

“Well, for the most part,” Ororo replied as they kept to the shades, enjoying the sounds of children and humans around them “T’Challa was not a bad man or anything, I've known him since we were children, but we are like siblings more than anything, and his eyes are set on someone else already,”

‘So does mine,’ Ororo muttered internally as she glanced sideways towards the long-living mutant, so manly and intimidating in visage that very few get to know the soft sides of his. He was a caring person despite his hard image of a brute; most of the girls in the Institute looked at him like their uncle and she saw many instances in which Logan also acted like their overprotective father without knowing.

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