Emma knew when there was something wrong with her husband.
She reclined against the plush pillows of their custom California king bed, watching Peter as he
methodically kneaded her swollen ankles. His large hands moved with gentleness born from
months of practice, finding every ache with uncanny accuracy. The late afternoon sun filtered
through the penthouse's floor-to-ceiling windows, showing golden light across the polished
marble floors and their expansive bedroom.
"A little higher," Emma murmured, and Peter immediately adjusted, his fingers working magic
on her calves.
It wasn't just the massage, though that alone would have been suspicious enough. The entire
day had been a parade of attentiveness. First, he'd surprised her with her favorite Italian
dinner—a perfect frutti di mare that rivaled the best restaurants in New York. Emma honestly
hadn't known he could cook like that, and watching him move confidently around their kitchen,
sleeves rolled up as he prepared fresh pasta by hand, had been both surprising and oddly
arousing.
After dinner, he'd spent two solid hours giving her a back and belly massage that had been so
divine she'd fallen into a deep sleep, only to wake to find him presenting a glass of freshly
squeezed orange juice and a meticulously arranged fruit salad, each piece cut into perfect, bitesized portions.
It wasn't that Peter wasn't loving and attentive regularly—he was, without question, the most
thoughtful man she'd ever known. But there was a particular quality to his excessive caregiving
today. A nervousness behind his eyes. A tension in his shoulders. And most tellingly, he had
dodged her kisses and rebuffed her attempts to lure him to bed. Peter Parker turning down
intimacy with her was like the sun refusing to rise.
Something was very wrong.
And it was making her irritated. Not at Peter—never at Peter. But at whatever, or whoever, had
put that shadow behind his eyes. If someone had dared to harm him in any way, Emma would
flay their mind to the last nerve without a second thought. Her protective instincts had always
been fierce, but pregnancy had turned them positively primal.
"Peter," she said finally, her voice gentle but firm. She reached down and caught his hands,
stilling them against her legs. "What's wrong?"
Peter's eyes flickered up to meet hers before darting away again. He didn't answer immediately,
his thumbs absently stroking her skin.
Emma could have easily slipped into his mind to find the answer. Four years ago, she wouldn't
have hesitated. But since that night at the Hellfire Gala when she'd first violated his privacy, she
had promised both him and herself that she would never enter his thoughts without permission
again. It was a promise she had kept faithfully, even when curiosity gnawed at her.
So she waited, one hand resting on her enormous belly where their twins occasionally kicked
and tumbled, the other still holding Peter's hand.
"Emma," he finally said, his voice unusually hesitant. "I should have told you yesterday, but I
didn't want to upset you when you're so close to your due date."
Her eyebrow arched elegantly, but she remained silent, giving him space to continue.
"Mary Jane found me on the roof of the Chrysler Building when I was having a quick bite of
pizza during patrol."
Emma froze. The temperature in the room plummeted several degrees. Around them, small
objects began to levitate—a hairbrush, a few books, Peter's watch from the nightstand. A crystal
vase on the dresser developed a hairline crack with a soft, ominous sound.
Emma wasn't jealous. She knew Peter. He would snap his own neck before he would ever think
of being unfaithful to her. His moral compass was as much a part of him as his spider-powers.
But knowing that Mary Jane Watson—the woman who had carelessly shattered his heart and
abandoned him for that pathetic substitute of a man Paul—had been anywhere near him was
enough to make Emma want to squeeze the redhead's mind until it leaked out her ears.
"Emma," Peter said softly, alarmed by the psychic display of power. "The babies."
As if hearing their father's concern, Emma felt a sudden wave of warmth and calm emanating
from her womb. It was still startling when it happened—these nascent telepathic connections
with their unborn children. Dr. McCoy had theorized that Emma's psychic nature combined with
Peter's mutated genetics had created a unique neural development in the twins. They couldn't
communicate with words or images yet, but they could project simple emotions. And right now,
they were sending waves of serene reassurance to their mother.
The floating objects settled back into place. The temperature normalized. Emma took a deep
breath and squeezed Peter's hand.
"I'm fine," she assured him, though the slight tremor in her voice suggested otherwise. "What
did that insufferable woman want?"
Peter sighed, moving to sit beside her on the bed. "She wanted to reconcile. She said she'd
made a mistake choosing Paul over me and that she regretted it every day."
"How convenient," Emma said, ice dripping from every syllable. "Now that you're happily
married, obscenely wealthy, and expecting children. Now she realizes her mistake."
Peter smiled slightly at Emma's protectiveness. "I told her exactly that. Well, not in those exact
words, but the message was the same."
"And?" Emma prompted, her eyes narrowing. "What did she say to that?"
"She cried. Said she'd always loved me. That she'd never stopped. That she'd made the biggest
mistake of her life." Peter rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "I felt bad for her, Emma.
She looked... lost."
Emma scoffed, though something in her chest tightened uncomfortably. Even now, after
everything, Peter still had sympathy for the woman who had broken him. It was so perfectly
Peter that Emma couldn't even be properly angry about it.
"You shouldn't have kept this from me," she said instead, stroking a hand through his hair.
"I know. I'm sorry." He leaned into her touch. "I just... I knew how upset it would make you, and
Dr. Strange was very clear about you avoiding stress in these final weeks."
Emma laughed—a short, surprised sound. "Peter, darling, I run a multi-trillion dollar corporation
while nine months pregnant with twins who occasionally broadcast their emotions
telepathically. My baseline is stress."
"I still should have told you right away." He pressed a kiss to her palm. "I handled it, though. I
was clear that I'm happy with you—happier than I've ever been. That I'm excited about our
family and our future. And that whatever she and I had is firmly in the past."
Emma nodded, satisfied with his answer but still feeling a residual anger toward Mary Jane.
"And how did she take that?"
"Not well," Peter admitted with a sigh, his eyes downcast. "She was crying when I left, calling
after me as I swung away. I could hear her voice echoing between the buildings for blocks."
Emma watched the play of emotions across his face—guilt, regret, and something deeper that
she couldn't quite place. "And how do you feel about that?" she asked softly, carefully keeping
her tone neutral despite the spike of possessiveness that surged through her.
Peter ran a hand through his hair, the gesture so familiar to Emma that she could predict exactly
how his fingers would tangle in that one stubborn cowlick near the crown. "Guilty," he
admitted. "I know that's probably not what you want to hear, but I can't help it."
"I appreciate your honesty," Emma said, and she meant it. She'd spent too many years with men
who lied beautifully to her face. Peter's painful honesty was one of the things she treasured
most about him. "Tell me why you feel guilty."
He looked up at the ceiling, gathering his thoughts. "I've only given my heart to a few women in
my life, Emma. And each time, it's been broken in one way or another." His voice grew softer.
"Gwen Stacy's death destroyed a part of me I never got back. Felicia Hardy wanted Spider-Man,
but could never accept Peter Parker. And then Mary Jane..." He trailed off, shaking his head.
"Despite everything, MJ held on the longest through it all. Even when she chose Paul over me,
even when she left... there was history there."
Emma felt a flicker of jealousy at the tenderness in his voice when he spoke of Mary Jane, but
she pushed it aside. This wasn't about her insecurities. This was about understanding her
husband.
Peter continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "The look on her face when I told her it was
too late... I've caused a lot of pain in my life, Emma. Most of it unintentional. But this time, I
knew exactly what I was doing. I knew I was hurting her. And part of me thought—what if I'm
wrong? What if someday you—"
With a sudden flash of clarity, Emma finally understood what this was truly about. The excessive
nurturing, the nervousness, the guilt that ran deeper than mere sympathy for an ex-girlfriend.
This wasn't about Mary Jane at all.
"You're afraid," she said softly, the realization washing over her. "You're afraid of being left alone
again."
Peter's eyes met hers, wide with surprise at her perception, then softened with the relief of
being truly seen. He nodded once, the movement almost imperceptible.
Emma reached for him, her diamond-hard exterior melting completely away as she pulled him
to her. "Peter Parker," she said, her voice fierce with conviction, "I am not going anywhere. Ever.
I will always be with you, no matter what. When I found you that night under the tree at the
Hellfire Gala, I wasn't looking for a diversion or a temporary plaything. I found the other half of
myself that I never knew was missing."
His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he held her gaze. "Emma, I—"
"I have lived centuries in my diamond form," she continued, placing his hand over her heart. "I
could potentially outlive every human on this planet. And I promise you this—I will spend every
one of those years by your side. Death itself would have to rip me away from you and our
children, and even then, I would fight it with everything I am."
The intensity of her declaration hung in the air between them for a moment before Peter
leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that was gentle yet profound. Emma melted
into him, her hands cradling his face as they expressed with touch what words couldn't fully
convey. Their lips moved together in perfect synchronicity, years of intimacy having taught them
the language of each other's bodies.
As their kiss deepened, Peter gently nuzzled against her neck, his breath warm against her skin.
Emma sighed, her fingers threading through his hair, holding him close. They moved together
with the practiced ease of longtime lovers, helping each other shed their clothing piece by
piece, their kisses never breaking for long.
When they were both naked, Peter positioned himself behind Emma on their bed, his chest
pressed against her back as they lay on their sides. His hands moved reverently over her swollen
belly, cradling it with awe and tenderness.
"I still can't believe we made these little miracles," he whispered against her ear, his voice thick
with emotion. "You've given me everything, Emma. A family. A future. A reason to believe
again."
Emma turned her head to capture his lips once more, a soft moan escaping her as his hands
moved up to gently cup her sensitive breasts. Her pregnancy had enhanced her already
impressive bust, making them heavy and full. As his fingers brushed over her nipples, a few
drops of pearly liquid beaded at the tips.
"Peter," she gasped, her blue-lipsticked mouth leaving marks against his skin with each
passionate kiss. She guided his hand to her inner thigh, wordlessly communicating her need.
Understanding her desire, Peter carefully lifted her uppermost leg, opening her to him as he
positioned himself at her entrance. With exquisite care, he eased into her welcoming heat, both
of them sighing in unison as he filled her completely.
"Is this okay?" he whispered, concerned about her comfort so late in her pregnancy.
"More than okay," Emma breathed, reaching back to grasp his hip, encouraging him to move. "I
need you, Peter. All of you."
He began to thrust with gentle, measured strokes, each movement deep but controlled. Emma
gasped as the angle allowed his cock to nudge against her cervix with every thrust, sending
waves of pleasure coursing through her body. The position was perfect—intimate, deep, yet
safe for her condition.
"You feel incredible," Peter murmured, his lips trailing kisses down her neck and shoulder. One
hand continued to support her raised leg while the other moved to massage her breasts, his
touch simultaneously reverent and sensual.
"Drink your fill," Emma encouraged, her voice breathy with desire as she felt his mouth move to
her breast. "They're yours, darling. All of me is yours."
Peter's lips closed around her nipple, suckling gently. The sensation of him drawing her milk into
his mouth while he continued to move inside her sent Emma spiraling toward climax. Her head
fell back against his shoulder, blue lipstick marks dotting his face, neck, and chest like exotic
tattoos.
"That's it," she moaned, her inner walls clenching around him as pleasure built within her.
"Don't stop, Peter. Please don't stop."
His rhythm remained steady and deep, his body curled protectively around hers even as he
brought her closer to the edge. There was something profoundly intimate about this position—
her belly cradled in the curve of his arm, her back pressed against his chest, their children
nestled between them as they made love.
"I love you, Emma," Peter whispered against her skin, his voice raw with emotion. "I will always
love you. Always."
Those words, combined with the exquisite sensation of him inside her and his mouth at her
breast, sent Emma over the edge. Her orgasm washed over her in gentle, rippling waves, her
body trembling in his embrace as she cried out his name.
As her climax rippled through her body, Emma's release soaked the sheets beneath them, her
juices flowing freely over Peter's still-moving length. She cried out, her voice hoarse with
passion as the waves of pleasure seemed endless. Behind her, Peter continued his gentle,
rhythmic thrusts, savoring the way her inner walls clenched around him in spasming pulses.
"Don't stop," she gasped, reaching back to grasp his hip, her diamond-hard nails digging slightly
into his skin. "Peter, please... more..."
His mouth returned to her breast, lips closing around her sensitive nipple as he began to drink
deeply. The sensation of him drawing milk from her body while simultaneously filling her with
his cock was overwhelming—primal and intimate in a way Emma had never experienced before
him. She felt herself beginning to build toward another peak almost immediately.
"That's it," she encouraged, her voice breathy and demanding. "Drink, darling. Take everything I
have to give you."
Peter made a sound of approval against her skin, his tongue circling her areola before suckling
more firmly. His hips maintained their steady rhythm, each thrust hitting perfectly against that
spot deep inside that made her vision blur with pleasure. The room was filled with the sounds
of their lovemaking—the wet slide of flesh against flesh, their mingled breathing, and Emma's
soft cries of pleasure.
Deep in her mind, behind shields that even her telepathic children couldn't penetrate, Emma
once more thanked Mary Jane Watson for being the stupid, short-sighted fool that she was.
What kind of imbecile would willingly give up a man like Peter Parker? A man who loved so
deeply, who remained loyal despite being betrayed, who could make her body sing with
pleasure while simultaneously making her feel utterly safe and cherished?
Let her shake her ass for strangers, Emma thought viciously. Let her showcase her body for
magazines and advertisements. Let her whore herself for a stardom that will inevitably fade,
leaving her hollow and alone. Mary Jane deserved the emptiness awaiting her—the hollow
fame, the transient attention, the gnawing realization that she had traded the most precious
thing in the world for a pale imitation that couldn't even manage to stick around.
Emma's vindictive thoughts were interrupted by a sudden, sharp bite to her nipple as Peter's
teeth gently clamped down while he continued to suckle. The unexpected sensation sent a
shockwave of pleasure-pain through her entire body, making her arch against him with a
strangled cry.
"Peter!" she screamed as a second, more intense orgasm crashed over her without warning. Her
body convulsed in his arms, inner muscles clenching rhythmically around his length as her
release flooded between them. "Oh god, don't stop—fill me, please. I need you to fill me."
Peter groaned against her breast, the vibration sending another aftershock through her
sensitive body. He abandoned her nipple to press his face against her neck, his breathing ragged
as his thrusting became more urgent.
"Emma," he gasped, his voice tight with restraint. "I'm close. So close."
"Inside me," she demanded, reaching back to thread her fingers through his hair, holding him
against her. "I want to feel you cum inside me, Peter. Please."
With a final, powerful thrust, Peter buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he began to
spill deep within her. Emma felt each large, hot, thick jet of his cum painting her inner walls,
triggering another miniature climax that had her gasping and trembling in his arms. He turned
her head with gentle fingers, capturing her mouth in a fierce, passionate kiss that she returned
with equal fervor.
Their lips moved together hungrily, blue lipstick long since smeared across both their mouths,
neither caring about the mess they'd made of each other. Emma's tongue danced with his, her
hand cupping his cheek as they breathed each other's air, refusing to separate even for a
moment.
"SYSTEM," Peter murmured against her lips between kisses, "lights off, activate night cooling."
The DUMMY Home AI system responded by gradually dimming the room's lighting to darkness,
the only illumination now coming from the city lights filtering through the windows. The gentle
hum of the environmental system activated, and soon cool air was circulating through the
bedroom, caressing their sweat-slicked bodies.
Emma shivered slightly at the sudden temperature change, pressing herself more firmly against
Peter's warmth. He responded immediately, pulling the lightweight duvet over them and
wrapping his arms more securely around her. His hand splayed protectively over her swollen
belly, where their twins had become suspiciously quiet—likely lulled to sleep by the hormones
of pleasure flooding their mother's system.
"Cold?" he whispered against her ear, his breath warm against her skin.
"Not anymore," she replied, nestling back against him. His softening cock remained inside her,
neither of them willing to separate just yet. "You're like my personal furnace. Another benefit of
your spider metabolism."
Peter chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest against her back. "I aim to please,
future Mrs. Parker."
Emma couldn't help but feel triumph, knowing she would have his name soon.
"I love you," Peter whispered into the darkness, his voice thick with emotion. "More than I ever
thought possible."
Emma placed her hand over his where it rested on her belly. "And I love you more," she
responded, allowing a rare vulnerability to color her tone. "More than I believed myself capable
of loving anyone."
They lay together in comfortable silence for several minutes, their breathing synchronizing
naturally. Emma felt herself beginning to drift toward sleep, the events of the day and the
intensity of their lovemaking leaving her pleasantly exhausted. Just before she surrendered to
slumber, she felt a gentle kick beneath their joined hands—one of the twins making its presence
known.
"Did you feel that?" Peter murmured sleepily against her hair.
"Mmm," Emma confirmed, too tired for a more eloquent response. "They're saying goodnight."
As she slipped into dreams, Emma's last coherent thought was that she had never known such
perfect contentment—her husband's arms around her, their children safe within her, and the
absolute certainty that this happiness was hers to keep. No Mary Jane Watson or anyone else
would ever take this from her. She had fought too hard and come too far to let anyone threaten
what was hers.
And Peter Parker was most definitely hers. Forever.
..............................
Natasha Romanoff and Maria Hill sat in uncomfortable silence within Nick Fury's office aboard
the SHIELD Helicarrier. The room, buried deep within the mobile fortress's command section,
was encased in electromagnetic shielding, quantum scramblers, and at least six different types
of magical wards that shimmered faintly when the light hit them just right. A gentle hum
permeated the space—the sound of active anti-surveillance equipment that made the room
one of the most secure locations on the planet.
"I'm still not understanding the urgency," Natasha said, breaking the silence. "We've already
secured Parker and Frost's agreement to the summit. Unless the Quiet Council decides to be
particularly difficult, diplomatic channels are progressing as expected."
Fury, standing with his back to them, stared out the reinforced viewport at clouds drifting by. He
turned slowly, his single eye narrowing as he assessed both women.
"Doctor Strange paid me a visit last night," Fury said, his voice deliberately measured.
"Appeared right in this office, bypassing every security measure we have. Wanted to share
some... cosmically significant information."
Maria Hill straightened in her chair. "Sir, if this concerns extradimensional security, shouldn't we
bring in—"
"I'm bringing in exactly who needs to be brought in," Fury cut her off, taking a seat behind his
desk. "Parker's situation is more complicated than we thought. And by complicated, I mean
potentially reality-altering."
Natasha tilted her head slightly. "How? Beyond Peter being an overprotective husband and
future father? He's fathering more children with Storm and Jean Grey, yes, but we've dealt with
powerful mutant children before."
"Not like this," Fury replied, activating a holographic display that filled the center of the room. A
complex web-like structure appeared, pulsing with energy. "Strange told me about something
called the Web of Life and Destiny. It's a multiversal construct that connects all Spider-people
across infinite realities. And Peter Parker—our Peter Parker—is currently at its center."
Maria leaned forward, studying the projection. "I've read theoretical papers about multiversal
anchors, but I've never seen confirmation of anything this structured."
"It's real," Fury confirmed. "And according to Strange, any children Parker fathers are being
infused with this energy. These won't just be powerful mutants—they'll be connected to a
fundamental force of the multiverse."
Natasha's eyes widened slightly. "That's why you were so concerned when I reported Emma's
pregnancy. You already suspected something like this."
"I had my suspicions," Fury admitted. "Parker's blood work has always been... unusual. Beyond
the spider mutation."
Maria began typing rapidly on her tablet. "This changes the strategic assessment completely. If
these children inherit both omega-level mutant abilities and connection to this Web, they could
potentially—"
"Rewrite reality itself," Fury finished for her. "At minimum we were already prepared for them
to be reality warpers or such. At worst, they could become nexus points for interdimensional
invasion or collapse."
"Does Peter know?" Natasha asked quietly.
Fury shook his head. "Strange doesn't think so. Parker's connection to the Web is instinctual,
not conscious. But others know—or will soon." He gestured, and the hologram shifted to show
various supernatural entities watching the web from different angles. "Strange himself is already
considering how any of Parker's future children would be perfect candidates for becoming what
he calls an 'ultimate' Sorcerer Supreme—a magical protector beyond anything Earth has seen
before."
"It's not just terrestrial interest we need to worry about," Maria added. "If this information
spreads, cosmic entities would take notice. Galactus. The Celestials. The Brood. Any number of
forces that monitor dimensional anomalies."
"I've spent the last three nights personally upgrading SHIELD's information security protocols,"
Fury said, rubbing his temple. "Making absolutely certain that the likes of Doctor Doom or
Hydra don't catch wind of this. Not just for our sake, but for theirs."
Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Their sake?"
A rare, cold smile crossed Fury's face. "I've known Parker for a long time. He pulls his
punches. Alot Always has. But if someone were to target Emma Frost or his children? I doubt
there'd be enough left of them to identify."
"You're afraid of Spider-Man?" Maria asked, sounding skeptical.
"No," Fury replied. "I'm afraid of what Peter Parker would become if someone hurt his family.
The Web doesn't just give power—it amplifies what's already there. And beneath all that
responsibility and quips is someone who's lost almost everyone he's ever loved. You push him
too far..." Fury let the sentence hang.
"I spoke with Emma," Natasha said. "She's not exactly defenseless herself. Nine months
pregnant and near her due date, and she nearly considered turning my brain inside out just to
make a point."
"And now there's Storm carrying triplets, and Jean Grey with three more on the way," Maria
added. "That's eight children with potentially reality-warping abilities. The Quiet Council must
understand the gravity of this."
"Which brings us back to the summit," Fury said. "It's no longer just about diplomacy or
preventing paranoia about mutant hybrids. We need containment and protection protocols.
These children will be targets before they're even born."
Natasha leaned back in her chair, processing. "Emma already knows something's up. She's too
smart not to have sensed it. The way she was talking about security for their new home... she's
preparing for war."
"Smart woman," Fury nodded. "Between her telepathy, Parker's spider-sense, and now this
information from Strange, they might be more prepared than we thought. But they still need
allies."
"We should bring Xavier into this directly," Maria suggested. "With his telepathic abilities—"
"Already working on it," Fury interrupted. "But Xavier has his own agenda. Always has. The
Quiet Council isn't a unified front, and some members might see these children as tools rather
than people."
"Emma wouldn't stand for that," Natasha said with certainty. "Neither would Peter."
"Which is why we need this summit to work," Fury stood, pacing the length of his office. "We
need a unified approach—mutants, Avengers, mystical practitioners, and SHIELD all on the same
page."
"And if the Council refuses to cooperate?" Maria asked.
Fury's expression darkened. "Then we prepare for the worst. Because others will be coming for
those children, whether we're ready or not."
Natasha watched as Fury manipulated the hologram, zooming out to show the Web of Life
extending beyond their universe, pulsing with energy. "There's something else you're not telling
us."
Fury paused, then lowered his voice. "Strange mentioned something about the children
potentially being able to access and manipulate the Web directly. They wouldn't just be
connected to it—they could rewrite it. Restructure the multiverse itself."
"God," Maria whispered.
Fury nodded grimly. "It's a headache beyond headaches. We won't be able to keep this
information secret forever." He moved back to his desk, pressing his palms flat against its
surface. "According to Strange, there are others already moving in the shadows. A cabal of sorts
that actually wants Parker to continue exactly as he is."
"A cabal?" Maria's brow furrowed. "What kind of organization would want potentially realitywarping children scattered throughout the power structures?"
"The kind that's seen the future," Fury replied, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "They tried
to recruit Strange. Showed him visions of what's to come. In their version of events, Parker
himself brings about a golden age—for humanity, mutants, and Inhumans alike. By the time of
his death, his children will have established an empire spanning thousands of galaxies, bringing
peace and prosperity wherever they go before branching out to other universes entirely."
Natasha leaned forward. "And Strange believed this vision?"
Fury's eye narrowed. "Strange refused to join them. But I saw his face when he told me about
it." He sighed deeply. "Whatever future they showed him... he was tempted. Badly."
"That's impossible," Maria scoffed. "No offense to Parker, but men like Reed Richards and Victor
von Doom have acquired godlike powers before and failed to create lasting peace. What makes
Spider-Man so special?"
"If you need proof," Fury said, activating another holographic display showing the global
operations of Parker-Frost Industries, "look at what he's already done. Five years ago, Peter
Parker was a struggling photographer and part-time science teacher. Now he's co-running a
trillion-dollar enterprise that's providing millions of jobs with compulsory healthcare, generous
benefits, and fundamentally changing lives across the globe." The display showed sprawling
campuses, research facilities, and humanitarian projects spanning six continents.
Maria studied the data scrolling beside the images. "And not one hint of corruption or corporate
malfeasance," she admitted reluctantly.
"Parker doesn't just have power—he has a fundamental decency that's never wavered," Fury
said. "Add Emma Frost's ruthless pragmatism, and you've got something neither Richards nor
Doom could offer: heart and steel working in perfect harmony."
Natasha traced her finger through the hologram. "So you believe this prophecy?"
"I don't know what I believe," Fury admitted. "But I've already spoken with the President and
select members of the World Security Council." He turned his gaze directly to Natasha. "They've
decided we need our own spider-baby in the mix. To keep things... fair, as it were."
Natasha didn't even blink. "You want me to seduce Peter Parker." It wasn't a question.
Fury nodded once.
A bitter smile crossed Natasha's lips. "You forgot one crucial detail, Nick. I'm sterile. The Red
Room saw to that." There was a hint of long-buried pain in her voice. "Or did you plan to
harvest my eggs and create some lab experiment?"
"Parker makes that irrelevant," Fury said quietly.
For the first time since entering the office, Natasha's practiced composure faltered. "What are
you saying?"
Fury tapped the hologram, bringing the Web of Life back into focus. "If Parker truly is the
conduit for this multiversal construct, then there's very little he can't affect—including
reproductive impossibilities. His connection to the Web doesn't just bypass normal genetics; it
rewrites reality on a fundamental level."
"Are you suggesting..." Natasha's voice trailed off, a sliver of hope slipping through her
professional facade.
"Strange believes that a night with Parker would not only result in conception but potentially
reverse the damage done to you entirely," Fury confirmed. "The Web seeks to perpetuate itself,
to create new connections. It wants him to have children—lots of them, apparently—with
partners who complement his abilities."
Maria looked between them. "This is crossing a line, sir. We're talking about manipulating a man
into fathering children for strategic purposes."
"I don't like it either," Fury growled. "But the alternative is letting Parker's lineage become
concentrated solely among the mutant leadership. At least this way, humanity maintains some
stake in whatever comes next."
Natasha had gone very still, her eyes distant. "All these years," she whispered, almost to herself.
"The one thing the Red Room made certain I could never have."
"You don't have to do this," Maria said softly. "We can find another approach."
"Can you?" Natasha asked, refocusing on Fury. "Or am I uniquely qualified because of my
existing relationship with Peter? Because he trusts me?"
Fury didn't flinch from her gaze. "Yes to both. But there's more. The cabal Strange mentioned?
They specifically named you as one of the ideal mothers for Parker's children. Something about
your particular genetic adaptations complementing the spider powers."
"This is insane," Maria muttered. "We're discussing breeding programs like we're talking about
livestock."
"Welcome to the new world order," Fury replied dryly. "Where the children of Spider-Man might
reshape reality itself."
Natasha stood suddenly, pacing to the window. "Peter is loyal to Emma. Deeply committed.
Even if I were... interested... he wouldn't betray her."
"That's why we need Emma's cooperation," Fury said. "She's already approved Storm and Jean
Grey. Strange believes she'll understand the strategic value of having you in the mix as well."
"As what? Part of his collection?" Natasha asked sharply.
"As a mother to children who might save the universe," Fury countered. "Think about it,
Romanoff. Not just the chance to have children of your own, but children who could help build a
better future than all your years of espionage and assassination ever could."
Natasha turned back, her expression unreadable. "And if I refuse?"
"Then we find someone else," Fury shrugged. "But they won't have your skills, your training, or
your history with Parker. They won't be able to protect those children the way you could."
The silence in the room stretched as Natasha stared out the viewport, watching clouds drift past
the Helicarrier. She sighed softly, mentally agreeing with Fury's assessment. If Peter gave her
children and loved her, she would probably be his until death even if he never forced it upon
her. That was the kind of man Peter was—someone who would see getting her pregnant as his
responsibility, insist she had no obligation to him, then ensure she and their children wanted for
nothing.
"Peter would probably blame himself," Natasha said, turning back to face Fury and Maria. "Even
if I were the one to initiate. He'd declare I had no reason to stay attached to him, then set up
trust funds worth billions just to make sure our theoretical children lived in luxury." She shook
her head with a faint smile. "That's who he is."
"It's partly why he was chosen," Fury replied simply. "Power without corruption is rare."
Natasha crossed her arms, her decision forming. "So what's the plan? I assume you have one
beyond 'go seduce Spider-Man'?"
Fury clicked a button on his desk, and the Web of Life hologram dissolved, replaced by the
image of a massive white cruise ship cutting through azure waters. The vessel was unlike
anything Natasha had ever seen—sleek yet imposing, with elegant lines that somehow
conveyed both luxury and power.
"Parker-Frost Industries hasn't just branched into science like Peter initially wanted," Fury
explained. "Thanks to Emma's business acumen, they've expanded into luxury goods, video
games, biotech, and even security and weapons—though they've remained mostly a highlytrained and well-equipped peacekeeping force rather than arms dealers."
Maria whistled low as the hologram rotated to show the full scale of the ship. "That's not just a
cruise liner. That's a floating city."
"Two years ago, they branched into entertainment," Fury continued. "Emma commissioned the
Aurora Invicta—the largest cruise ship in the world. It's filled with so much entertainment and
security technology it makes SHIELD look like we're operating on a government budget. Which,
technically, we are."
The hologram expanded to show schematics of the vessel's interior—lavish suites, multiple
swimming pools, theaters, casinos, and what appeared to be a full-sized botanical garden under
a glass dome.
"According to our intelligence, Emma's commissioned six more similar vessels," Fury added, his
expression grim. "And there are rumors—unconfirmed but from reliable sources—that she's
also ordered six even larger ships that could potentially be retrofitted for military purposes."
Maria and Natasha's eyes widened at that.
"That would give them the sixth largest naval force in the world," Maria said quietly. "Are we
looking at a potential Krakoan navy?"
"Or something else entirely," Fury mused. "Future mission, perhaps. We're still gathering intel."
Natasha studied the hologram, noting the security measures visible in the schematic. "How
does this relate to me potentially seducing Peter?"
"Emma and Peter's wedding date is approaching—set for just a few weeks before her due date,"
Fury explained. "Emma is planning a three-day celebration slash bachelor party for Peter aboard
the Aurora Invicta."
Natasha's eyebrows shot up. "Peter must have refused. He's too loyal, too... traditional for that
sort of thing."
Fury nodded, a rare hint of amusement crossing his features. "According to our sources, he
refused hundreds of times until Emma apparently played the 'your pregnant wife must be
listened to' card." He manipulated the hologram to show a guest list scrolling by—a who's who
of celebrities, heroes, and luminaries from around the world. "Thousands of attendees from
around the world, Krakoa, and beyond. The kind of party most men would kill to attend."
"And Peter had to be dragged into it," Natasha said with a small smile. "That tracks."
"Currently," Fury continued, bringing up another screen, "Emma is reviewing candidates for
some... female entertainment for both guests and Peter to enjoy." The screen showed profiles
of various women—actresses, models, and social media stars. "Top-shelf adult film stars
and MarvelGram influencers, mostly. Your CV will be among them."
"My CV?" Natasha asked, blinking in surprise. "I don't have a—" She paused, understanding
dawning. "You've created one for me."
Fury shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Not really. Just sent the one you usually use when
undercover, along with those photos Stark took of you in that red bikini in Hawaii. The ones he
thought were a secret."
"Chto za khuynya?" Natasha cursed in Russian, her composure momentarily fracturing. "I'm
going to kill Tony. Slowly. With something rusty." Her hands clenched into fists, knuckles
whitening. "Those were supposed to be deleted after the mission."
Maria Hill looked away, her lips twitching upward in a rare genuine smile at Natasha's
uncharacteristic embarrassment. "If it helps, they're very flattering photos. The kind that make
lesser women consider surgical enhancements."
"Not helpful, Hill," Natasha hissed, though some of the tension left her shoulders. She turned
back to Fury. "Those photos better not end up anywhere public, or I'm holding you personally
responsible."
Fury nodded, his expression returning to its typical stoic mask. "Your 'resume' has already been
placed at the top of Emma Frost's list. The woman's no fool—she'll recognize you immediately
and call to find out what game SHIELD is playing." He steepled his fingers. "That's when you'll
need to make your case directly to her. She might be willing to share Parker for political
purposes with other mutants, but a human spy? That'll require finesse."
"And what exactly am I supposed to tell her?" Natasha asked, folding her arms. "'Hello, Emma,
I'd like to borrow your fiancé to father my miracle babies?' I'm sure that'll go over well with one
of the world's most powerful and notoriously possessive telepaths."
"Tell her the truth," Fury said simply. "That humanity needs a stake in whatever future these
children are building. Strange thinks she'll understand the strategic value—she's ruthlessly
pragmatic when it comes to power dynamics. If anything, she might see you as less threatening
than Jean Grey or Storm. You're not a mutant queen capable of challenging her position."
Natasha sighed, running a hand through her hair. She could already imagine what Emma would
demand in return—probably parading Natasha around in whatever revealing outfit the White
Queen deemed appropriate, taking pictures as incentive for Peter... and no doubt for Emma's
own personal collection. The woman was nothing if not thorough in her possessions.
"Fine," she conceded. "But I want it on record that I'm doing this for potential children and
galactic security, not because I'm interested in being part of Peter Parker's growing harem."
Maria snorted softly. "Says the woman who once told me Parker was the only truly good man
she'd ever met. After that mission in Budapest."
Natasha shot her a betrayed look. "That was said in confidence. And I was bleeding out at the
time."
"Regardless," Fury interrupted, standing to indicate the meeting was concluding, "you're
relieved of active duty effective immediately. Go prepare however you need to. Get your head
straight. The future of SHIELD—hell, the future of reality itself—might depend on this mission's
success."
"No pressure," Natasha muttered, rising from her chair.
"We're counting on you, Romanoff," Fury added, his voice softening almost imperceptibly. "This
isn't just about politics or power. Strange seemed... genuinely afraid of what happens if these
children end up exclusively under Krakoan influence."
Natasha nodded once, sharply, and left the office. She maintained her professional stride
through the bustling command center, past junior agents who instinctively stepped out of her
path, and into the elevator. Only when she reached a quiet, empty corridor did she allow herself
to pause, leaning against the cold metal wall.
Her hand drifted unconsciously to her belly as her mind filled with impossible visions—a child
with Peter's gentle eyes and her red hair, perhaps with his quick mind and her tactical prowess.
A child who would never know the horrors of the Red Room. A child she had long ago accepted
she would never have.
The whisper of possibility awakened something primal within her, something she'd buried
beneath years of training and pragmatism. Her jaw tightened with sudden, fierce determination.
If this mission succeeded—if she could actually conceive—then heaven help anyone who would
dare threaten her child. If any organization, government, or cosmic entity tried to use her
offspring as weapons or pawns, the Black Widow would ensure they experienced suffering
beyond imagination. They would beg for death a thousand times over before she granted such
mercy.
The elevator chimed, breaking her reverie. Natasha straightened, composing herself back into
the perfect spy. She had preparations to make, contingencies to plan. And perhaps a certain
mission file containing bikini photos to mysteriously disappear from SHIELD's servers.
Behind her professional mask, a dangerous smile formed. For the first time in decades, Natasha
Romanoff allowed herself to hope.