LUNATIC | Peter Parker x Reader

⓮ A s i t s h o u l d b e

I want your revenge

You and me, could write a bad romance

I

I

I

P A R K E R

Joy.

I felt joy.

Today I was delighted by all the good things happening around me. All the plans I'd been making are perfectly done, I have a beauty in my basement, and most importantly...

...An invitation from the FBI.

Seemingly, the report I made up (about myself) helped Steve Rogers out a lot. Three days after I first met them (and kissed (Y/n), he called me. Saying he wanted to make it official, to make me official.

He was about to have a son, wasn't he? Before his wife was killed with the unborn boy inside of her. I got a sense of something with all the long letters that he sent me through his email, maybe Rogers is looking to be a father-figure, maybe I'll let him be that to me.

After that kiss, (Y/N) said nothing. Her eyes were always wide with wonder, seeking to see a flash of light in me. If she had changed anything at all, I guess she thought a kiss might kick a demon out of me.

For a fact, I don't know if it did, but something was definitely changing. For better or worse.

I looked at her, half of her face was covered up with the book that I had given her, she sensed my glance and looked right back.

"Yes?" She said.

"You like it?" I asked her, she was confused at first but then realized I was talking about the book.

"Yeah. Better than doing nothing." She replied.

"The devil's only friend, ironic isn't it?" I read the title.

"You read this one yet?" She asked me.

"No. Planned to though, books and I are just... complicated. I have piles of books, too many to put on the shelf. I still want to buy more and more though."

"What? Your other addiction aside from killing is books?"

"Oh, yes." I smiled, and so did she.

She smiled.

She smiled.

She smiled.

She smiled.

She smiled.

For the first time, she smiled for me.

You have your obsessions. Everyone has their obsessions. Is it a person? Is it a boy? Who is it? You have a picture of him or her in your mind yet?

Now, pick your favorite memory of the person, with them smiling, make sure you have one in which they smile.

Pure. Isn't it?

You have seen enough of that moment on your phone, that it stuck in your head. Did it lighten up your heavy heart when you first saw it? Magnificent isn't it, a smile from someone.

But you will never know for sure, you will never get the feeling of why that person is so important until that smile was not from a picture, nor a video but with your real eyes.

It was all worth it.

And it will be even more worth it once it's all over.

Joy. I felt even more joy of that smile. Here I am in the FBI building, stood joyfully, waiting for Steve to take me deeper into the department, so I can inflate in, rotting it down from the inside, If I'm not being too ambitious.

"Parker." A voice of James Buchanan Barnes called me, I turned to look at him, he was the opposite of me, he wasn't joyful at all, he was basically the definition of grumpy.

"Oh! Hey. Mr. Barnes." Friendly-neighborhood-Peter-Parker mode activated.

"C'mere." He looked like Steve ordered him to come down and pick me up, he didn't want to do it, he wanted to go back to work.

We got into the elevator, he pushed the 16th floor, when it closed I started a simple conversation. "I expected myself to be working here one day, didn't know it will be so soon."

"Good for you." He then ignored me.

"So. How will you guys take me in?"

"A consultant."

"That's it?"

"That's the best you can be, kid."

Ouch.

Up close, he smelled like an old, rich, leather. His eyes blue, his hair black and slicked up. Wonder how Barnes will react when he finds out I was the one he hunted, how big can the blue pupil expand in surprise before I gouge them out?

We finally arrived, when the elevator opened all eyes laid on us, I didn't expect to catch much attention. Were the agents here excited about who I was? Can they guess that I could be the killer?

No. Everybody stared away when Barnes looked back at them with the most disturbing look on his face. He led me further into the place, to the very last department.

Oh. Yes. The team.

Steve Rogers was the first one I recognized of all the people, then some other faces I've looked up to but had to pretend that I don't know them. Soon enough these people will be my victims, I smiled at them. It was like I wasn't that important to be introduced. Steve Roger invited me into his office, smelled like booze, well, at least expensive booze.

"Before we reach the big bad boss." Is that really what he calls me? "I have a case of a copycat, have you heard of him?" He handed me a file, written down The Bird.

Bruh, what the f**k? My copycat is a bird.

"Was this on the news?" I asked him, if I have a copycat I should be the first one to know.

"No. We covered it up, or other people will get more influent and all become a serial killer, and we don't want that. Tell me what you see?" He crossed his arms, waiting for me to look at the file. This was a test, I knew Rogers was smart enough to figure the basic, he wanted to know if I was worth it.

I opened it up, there was only one victim as far as me or the FBI aware of. It was pretty obvious why Rogers noted it down as a copycat. First off the target was too young, small, and vulnerable, I wouldn't have chosen her. Second, the sketch was a bird, a skull of a bird. Leaving no fingerprint. It was a messy job. On top of that, they didn't drug her, they killed her when she was still alive.

"Did anyone in the neighborhood hear a scream?" I asked.

"I don't know. James's the one taking witness reports. Why?"

"I learned it in my class, that a on a face expression before their death can sometimes, stay frozen with the look they had when they died. Look at her, she looks terrified! She was killed with her full consciousness. This copycat is good, at least technique wise they are, but they're still an amateur compared to The Spider. I can tell this girl is their first, or maybe second kill."

Rogers looked at me with an impressed impression on his face, something told me I passed the test.

"James!" He called Barnes into his office, the young agent walked in with a paper.

"Here." Steve handed me the paper. "This is a paper for your consent, agreement, and understanding as an official consultant for me. You will be protected under the care of the FBI if anything goes wrong. You must keep any information that you know from us to yourself, if the information leaked to the public you will be immediately removed. Understand?"

I nodded and read the paper carefully, oh f**k, it feels so good when they trust me.

"I understand completely."

"Good. Now sign there." Steve handed me a pen.

Oh s**t, I totally forgot about the handwriting.

In the notes with all the girl I've killed, I left my actual handwritings because I never left mine at any data base, trying to find it was like as hard as trying to look for a needle in a haystack. But now here I am, about to leave one for them in this paper.

But I was prepared.

I signed down with my left hand fluently, then handed the paper back to Barnes, he took one glance at it and walked away.

Just like the zodiac killer who was never caught because he trained himself to write with both hands, himself and the serial killer's fingerprint never matches, so the same as he did, I trained myself well enough for as Peter Parker, I am left handed, and as the Spider, I am right handed, which define me better.

Without really paying attention to that handwriting, not having it sent to the very, very, very professional, the secret of me remains a secret as it should be.

Bucky left for a little for me and Steve to start blending in, he loved listening to me describing the case in my perspective. Hell, it sure is exciting and wondrous from the killer myself. He didn't notice my darkness, not at all, I put on an Oscar grade act of an innocent college boy with a nice attitude.

We burned out energy, I told him I'll get him a cup of coffee for us both even if I don't know where the coffee machine was. I headed out and finally found it on my own with James Barnes and his Latte.

"Hey, man." I said.

"Hey, boy." I swear to god he hates me.

"Can I use these cups? Gonna get boss a Capuccino."

"Boss?" He scoffted. "Go ahead."

"Okay then." I took my time making the coffee nicely so I'll get a good impression. When I waited for the machine to do its work he talked to me.

"Got anything on the guy?"

"The... Spider?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not the evidence guy, I just describe him mentally to boss, if anyone will crack the case it has to be Mr.Rogers, not me." I said with a shrug.

"What about the bird?"

"Who gave them that name?"

"Themselves."

I signed, thinking about the bird make me uncomfortable. How dare they copy me, and what for? Attention? That's pathetic. If you wanna kill at least have a proper technique, patterns, and ideas. Don't copy somebody else's work, have their parents taught them copying is f*****g dumb as s**t? I'm gonna f*****g strangle the one who did it to death.

"I don't know anything, as I said, we need more evidence," I told him and he ignored me, Barnes picked up the phone.

"FBI Barnes?"

I listened closely.

"s**t. Again?"

I listened.

"Ah.. f**k. We'll be there in about twenty minutes." He ended the call, then look at me. "The Spider strikes again."

But... I haven't killed anyone. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Either him or it's the bird, I don't f*****g know. Gotta go now, Detective Rogers's coming with me. You wait here until we come back, okay?"

"Can I come with you?"

"NO." He was about the put his cup onto the sink when I grabbed it.

"Go, agent. I'll take care of it." I smiled friendlily.

Bucky Barnes's fingerprints. Check.