chapter eleven:
❛ my dads dangerous ❜

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It had been exactly two weeks since Gwen kissed Peter after he saved her as Spider-Man. Since then, she hadn't seen him, and though she knew they needed to talk, she'd been avoiding him. But her life was also a mess—her mom was still missing, and the police weren't helping. With her little brother Max depending on her, Gwen had taken over working as much as she could at her mom's job to keep food on the table. The days were long, exhausting, and lonely. Every time she looked at Max's face, the worry in his eyes mirrored her own. She couldn't lose hope, not with him relying on her. And yet, with each passing day, it was harder to keep the faith that her mom would come home.

Gwen hadn't even told Peter about it. He had his own problems as Spider-Man, and she didn't want to burden him with her personal chaos, even if deep down she wondered if he was trying to help behind the scenes. But every time she thought about him, her heart would tighten—not just because of everything he was going through, but because of that kiss. The kiss had been a turning point for her, something she couldn't stop thinking about even when she was knee-deep in responsibilities.

Now, Gwen found herself pacing outside Peter's apartment building, her nerves in overdrive. Her hands were shoved deep into her jacket pockets as she walked back and forth, glancing up at his window every few minutes. What was she even doing here? Was she really about to knock on his door after weeks of radio silence? What would she even say? The question kept rattling around her head, taunting her. Her stomach churned with indecision, torn between staying in the shadows or finally confronting him. She wanted to talk to him, to explain everything, but the words kept dying in her throat.

Finally, with a deep breath, she mustered the courage to march up the steps and knock on the door. Her knuckles rapped against the wood, and she held her breath, waiting. After a few moments, the door creaked open, revealing Peter on the other side.

He looked rough. His hair was a disheveled mess, and dark circles clung under his eyes. His clothes were wrinkled, as if he hadn't changed in days. Gwen's heart sank at the sight of him like this. "Peter..." she said softly, stepping closer. "What's going on? You look like hell."

Peter let out a tired sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided eye contact. "Tony... he took my suit," he admitted, his voice hoarse. "He says I need to learn that being Spider-Man isn't about the suit. It's about... me. I've been relying too much on the tech, on the suit itself, and it nearly caused a disaster." His frustration was clear in the way his voice cracked. "He wants me to figure out who I am without it, but... I feel like I'm nothing without that suit."

Gwen's brow furrowed in concern. "Peter... I'm so sorry. That sounds like a lot to deal with." She couldn't imagine what he was going through, having something so important to him ripped away. "I know how much the suit means to you."

Peter let out a half-hearted chuckle, though there was no real humor behind it. "Yeah, well, I guess I had it coming," he muttered. "It's just—without it, I feel useless. Like, who am I supposed to be if I'm not Spider-Man?"

Gwen shook her head, stepping closer. "You're still you, Peter. You're a hero, with or without the suit. It's not the technology that makes you special—it's you. It always has been." Her voice softened, and before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out. "I mean, I've always liked you, Peter... even before you were Spider-Man. You're more than just the suit. You're—"

Before Gwen could finish, Peter closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against hers. The kiss was tender and urgent, both of them pouring out emotions they had been bottling up for far too long. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, the weight of everything else disappearing as they lost themselves in each other. When they finally pulled apart, they stood there in silence, breathless and unsure of what to say next.

Peter was the first to break the silence. "I'm really sorry," he began, his voice thick with regret. "About what I said before... about your dad. I didn't understand back then. I was a stupid kid."

Gwen gave him a soft smile, her heart swelling with the memories of their shared past. "You were twelve, Peter," she replied, her tone forgiving. "And I've been holding a grudge for way too long. I miss our friendship... I miss us."

"Me too," Peter said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Gwen glanced behind him, her eyes catching on something unusual. Pinned to Peter's wall were dozens of pictures. As she stepped closer, her breath hitched in her throat. They were pictures of her mom. Pictures she had never seen before. "Peter... what is all of this?" she asked, her voice barely concealing her shock.

Peter glanced over his shoulder and sighed, rubbing his neck awkwardly. "Ever since Tony took my suit, I've had a lot of time on my hands. So, I've been looking into your mom's disappearance," he explained quietly. "That picture there is from the night she went missing. I found it on a street camera." He pointed to one image where her mom was stepping into a dark alley. "I went through her phone records too. Your dad called her from a burner phone that night, and then... nothing. That's the last I could find."

Gwen's eyes scanned the photos, her heart pounding in her chest. As she focused on one particular image, her breath caught. "Wait... Peter, look," she said, her voice shaking as she pointed to a figure in the background of the photo. "That's... Liz Allen's dad."

Peter blinked in confusion, following her gaze. "Holy shit," he muttered. "I didn't even notice that."

Gwen's mind raced as she pieced together the fragments of the puzzle. "Peter, I think Liz's dad is the Vulture," she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of fear and disbelief.

Peter's eyes widened in shock. "You're right... Liz's dad has to be the Vulture. I can't believe I didn't see it."

Gwen's thoughts were spinning now, her mind latching onto a plan. "Peter, listen. You like Liz, right?" she asked suddenly, her tone sharp and urgent.

Peter blushed, fumbling for words. "Well, I don't know anymore... I mean, I like you too, so—"

"Peter, focus," Gwen interrupted, cutting through his stammering. "I have an idea. You need to ask Liz to homecoming."

Peter stared at her, baffled. "What? Why would I do that?"

"Because," Gwen said, her voice gaining strength, "you can get closer to her dad. If you pick her up for homecoming, maybe you can find more evidence about what he's been up to. He could lead us back to my mom, or at least explain why he's working with my dad. We need to figure this out."

Peter blinked, still processing the whirlwind of thoughts. "You... you think this could work?"

"It's our best shot," Gwen said, her voice unwavering. "We have to do this, Peter. For my mom."

Peter stood there, staring at her, his mind racing with the weight of everything they had just uncovered. He knew she was right, but the idea of deceiving Liz, especially after everything they'd been through, felt wrong. Yet, the stakes were too high to ignore.

"Okay," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do it."

Gwen stood in the small, dimly lit bathroom of her cramped apartment, the peeling wallpaper reminding her of the chaos her life had become. She looked into the cracked mirror, studying her reflection as she pulled her hair back into a tight bun. It was harder than she thought; the strands kept slipping through her fingers, and she felt frustration bubbling up.

As she tightened the bun, she couldn't help but grimace at the sight of the silky purple dress she wore. It hung awkwardly on her frame, an odd mix of elegance and discomfort. She had always been more comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt, and the way the fabric clung to her felt foreign. "Ugh, I hate wearing dresses," she muttered, exhaling dramatically.

"Gwen, you're gorgeous!" Max, her little brother, chimed in, bouncing on the balls of his feet nearby, his eyes sparkling with admiration. He had picked up on her moods lately, and even though he was young, his words managed to bring a hint of warmth to her heart.

Gwen turned to him, unable to resist a smile at his unwavering confidence. "You really think so?" she asked, kneeling down to meet his gaze. Her fingers reached up to ruffle his hair, her own frustration melting away momentarily.

"Of course! You look like a princess!" Max exclaimed, puffing out his chest as if he were the one giving her a royal makeover.

The compliment filled Gwen with a bittersweet sense of nostalgia, reminding her of the carefree days before everything had gone wrong. "Thanks, buddy," she said, feeling a rush of affection for her little brother. "But it's just a dress."

Max's grin widened as he leaned closer, his expression turning mischievous. "So... are you and Peter gonna dance tonight?"

Gwen's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Peter's name. She stood up straight and turned back to the mirror, her cheeks warming slightly. "Max, I'm not sure about that. It's complicated," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Didn't you say you guys kissed yesterday?" Max's innocent question felt like a tiny jolt of electricity, igniting embarrassment in Gwen. She immediately tensed, her cheeks flushing deeper.

"Max!" she exclaimed, her voice half-shocked and half-laughing. "That's—no, it's not like that!"

Max giggled, clearly enjoying the flustered reaction he had caused. "Sure, whatever you say, Gwen." His teasing tone was innocent but relentless, and it only made her more self-conscious.

"Alright, come on, little man. Time for you to head over to Mrs. Henderson's place," she said, forcing herself to regain composure. "You're gonna stay with her while I'm at the dance. Go wait for me outside the apartment, okay?"

"Okay!" he chirped, grabbing his backpack from the floor and darting toward the door.

Gwen watched him leave, a smile lingering on her face as she heard his footsteps echoing in the hallway. But as soon as the front door clicked shut, her expression darkened. The weight of reality settled back onto her shoulders. She turned back to the room, glancing toward the small safe hidden in her closet—a reminder of the chaos that surrounded them.

She hesitated, glancing at the clock. There was no telling what might happen tonight, especially with the Vulture still at large. The memories of her mother's disappearance weighed heavily on her heart, and she knew she had to be prepared for anything.

With a deep breath, she walked over to the safe, her heart pounding as she entered the combination. The door swung open with a soft creak, revealing the small handgun her mother had kept tucked away for emergencies. Gwen hesitated for just a moment, her hands shaking slightly as she reached for it. This wasn't how she had envisioned her homecoming night—facing a potential threat, armed and anxious. But she had to do what was necessary.

Tucking the gun into her boot felt both empowering and terrifying. The weight of it pressed against her leg, a grim reminder of the stakes involved. She straightened up, giving herself one last look in the mirror. The flower crown, delicate and vibrant, seemed out of place against the backdrop of the gun. But she couldn't let fear stop her—tonight was about more than just a dance; it was about finding answers and confronting the truth.

With her heart racing, she stepped out of the apartment and closed the door behind her quietly. The hallway was quiet, the air thick with anticipation. Max was waiting at Mrs. Henderson's door, his small figure bouncing with excitement.

Gwen couldn't help but chuckle at how innocent he looked, his excitement palpable. "Okay, let's go," she said, taking his hand as they walked down a level to Mrs. Henderson's apartment.

"Can I have some ice cream while I wait?" Max asked, his voice high-pitched with enthusiasm.

"Only if you behave yourself!" Gwen replied, trying to maintain a sense of normalcy amidst the tension.

They reached Mrs. Henderson's door, and Gwen bent down to give Max a quick hug. "You be good, okay? I won't be too long," she said, looking into his eyes, willing herself to keep the promise.

Max's eyes sparkled with excitement as he nodded. "I'll be fine! Have fun at your dance with Peter!" he teased, and Gwen felt her cheeks heat up again, this time with a mix of embarrassment and warmth.

"Yeah, yeah. We'll see," she said, giving him one last playful nudge before he dashed inside, already animatedly chattering to Mrs. Henderson about the ice cream he hoped to score.

Once Max was safely inside, Gwen took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead. She stepped out into the night, her mind racing with possibilities and fears, feeling the cool air wash over her. Tonight, she was ready to confront whatever awaited her at the homecoming dance, no matter what dangers lurked in the shadows.

The sun filtered through the tall trees, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor as thirteen-year-old Gwen stood nervously in a small clearing. The sound of rustling leaves and distant birdsong surrounded her, but the atmosphere felt thick with tension. In front of her, her mother, Linda, stood with a firm but encouraging expression, holding a small handgun and pointing toward a row of soda cans lined up on a fallen log.

"Okay, Gwen. Just like we practiced. Take a deep breath, focus on your target," Linda instructed, her voice steady despite the weight of the lesson.

Gwen shifted her weight from one foot to the other, the gun feeling heavy and foreign in her small hands. She raised it unsteadily, her heart racing. "I don't wanna do this anymore!" she exclaimed, frustration bubbling over as she aimed but missed her target completely. The bullet hit the ground with a soft thud, sending dirt flying. "I keep missing! Why do I need to learn this?"

Linda stepped closer, her expression serious as she took the gun from Gwen's hands and gently lowered it to her side. "Gwen, this is important," she replied, her tone laced with urgency. "You need to understand how to protect yourself and your brother."

"Why, Mom?!" Gwen shot back, her voice rising in indignation. "You've been so secretive ever since Dad was put in prison! You won't even tell me why he's there!"

Linda's face softened, but there was an edge of worry in her eyes. She took a moment to collect her thoughts, glancing at the scattered soda cans and then back at her daughter. "Gwen, your dad is a very dangerous man. He works for very bad people, and he will do everything in his power to hurt you and Max. I won't let that happen." Her words hung in the air, heavy and foreboding.

Gwen's heart raced at the weight of her mother's confession. "What do you mean?" she whispered, feeling a chill creep down her spine. "What do you mean he'll hurt us?"

"If something ever happens to me," Linda continued, her voice firm yet laced with emotion, "you need to know how to use this gun, okay? You need to be able to protect yourself."

Gwen's eyes widened, the gravity of her mother's words hitting her like a ton of bricks. She felt the raw reality of her situation seep into her bones. She nodded slowly, a mix of fear and determination coursing through her.

"Okay," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll try again."

Linda handed the gun back to Gwen, her expression filled with encouragement. "Remember, focus on your target. You can do this."

Gwen took a deep breath, steadied her hands, and aimed once more at the soda cans. She felt the weight of the gun and the gravity of her mother's lesson pressing down on her. This time, she narrowed her focus, blocking out the doubts swirling in her mind. With a steady pull of the trigger, she fired again.

The shot rang out, and this time, one of the cans toppled off the log, clattering to the ground. Gwen's eyes lit up with a mix of shock and exhilaration. "I did it!" she exclaimed, a grin breaking through her previous frustration.

Linda's face softened into a proud smile. "See? You just needed to focus. You're a natural."

Gwen beamed, feeling a rush of accomplishment. But beneath the surface, the weight of her mother's words lingered, and she couldn't shake the feeling that their lives were hanging by a thread. She knew the world was more complicated than she understood, but in that moment, with her mother by her side, she felt a flicker of hope that she could face whatever darkness lay ahead.

ASH SPEAKS!

we're getting closer to the end of act 1! probably one or more chapters then we're onto act 2!!

PLEASE DONT BE A GHOST READER!
COMMENT AND VOTE! IT HELPS US WRITERS STAY MOTIVATED:)