Chapter Text
Peter wrote fanfiction, even before the spider-bite, the joining of the Avengers, or any other “Hey normal teens shouldn’t experience this” situations. He had written all different kinds of fanfiction—Star Wars, Legos (don’t ask), some well known movies and shows, as well as a few one-shots with original characters. Ned was his main Beta-reader and was just as enthusiastic about every post as Peter was, but sometimes MJ would Beta-read. Mainly, the fanfictions were usually about Star Wars, updated every three months, and fans that drowned the fics in kudos, some even commented “Not in the Star Wars fandom, but I heard the author is good” or “Every update I cheer the author got to live another day”, but then a small suggestion was made and well…
Listen, he didn’t mean to start writing fanfictions about the Avengers he absolutely did, but he was on a video call with Ned and MJ about all the funny deeds the team had done in the tower (Being Spider-Man got you perks, like access to the Avengers Tower, food, name-brand cereal, training grounds, and watching the Avengers like they were a comedy show, but mostly name-brand cereal), and how he could start a blog, which had MJ’s interest piqued.
She suggested that he could start posting fanfictions about the Avengers. That simple idea had Peter smiling a smile that would have the worst villains running for the hills.
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It started small, a one-shot about Sam and Steve getting asked by a random civilian during an interview about what Disney princess they would be (Sam, of course, said "Cinderella, cause she broke, she represent me. Yo, lemme borrow twenty dollars”), another about all the nicknames Tony had given the team (That got bookmarked by a bunch of authors, who later started using them in their own Avenger fics) more being a bunch of incorrect quotes, so on and so forth.
Then Peter was handed the diamond egg from all the golden ones:
The team went out to get food.
The fic that dropped an hour after hit new records on Ao3.
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The Avengers were to not be trusted.
The Winter Soldier knew that well. It had been engrained into his very being, and of all the lies Hydra had told him, this one was for certain.
Yet here he was, sitting at a booth of a McDonalds, not the Winter Soldier, but James Buchanan Barnes—Bucky, unchained and unharmed, being given a chicken sandwich and fries like it was totally normal for this ragtag group of enhanced beings. Plus Stark.
He looked down at the food in front of it as if it were poison. He wouldn’t put it past them, Romanoff was a spy, and all of them hated Hydra. Not that he could blame them, he hated it too.
“We ordered you something plain, hope it’s okay,” Steve, handing out food to everyone. Bucky didn’t acknowledge him besides a small grunt, peeling back the bread to see what it was.
Plain had been an understatement. There was only chicken. No salad. No sauce. Just plain dry ass chicken. He might as well have been back on rations at the northern base.
“No pickles?”
Bucky liked pickles. It was one of the only foods he knew he liked.
Steve raised an eyebrow, looking between everyone’s food.
“Did you want pickles?”
Bucky gave a sharp nod, eyes burning into Steve’s, but he didn’t seem to mind. Everyone was being painfully polite to him despite not having any reason to be.
All of them except for Stark.
“Tony, yours has pickles, would you mind swapping?” Steve asked, though he didn’t sound too sure of himself. He had probably noticed Tony didn’t like him, Bucky thought.
After a moment, a miracle happened and Tony swapped the sandwiches and began digging into the plain chicken one. Bucky watched his face contort slightly; it had to have been very dry and tasteless. After a moment, he looked down at the newly presented sandwich.
“You swapped them.”
“Yeah?”
“But there’s no benefit to you?”
“Should’ve asked you what you wanted ‘stead of assuming.”
Tony shrugged, like his words justified all his actions.
Bucky looked back down at his new sandwich, taking a bite. Perfection. He turned back to Tony.
“You ever have enemies you need taken care of or need something stolen, come to me.”
The entire table nearly choked on their food.
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Peter smiled down at the story, sure it wasn’t exactly what happened, and he may have added in some creative details (What good writer didn’t?) but it was good.
He clicked post, and a new fanfic was uploaded to “TheAvengersNumber1Fan”
(Yes that username may have been taken a few months ago, but no god, goddess, or computer program could ever prove it was him that hacked into the account and changed it so he could have it. And no, he did not change his past username of “DarthSidousSaidWhat” to it, that would be crazy.)
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Spider-Man was swinging through the New York building skyline, an old lady had bought him a churro thirty minutes ago as thanks for saving her cat from a tree and he was still riding the high, while going about his usual patrol route.
“Lord of the Spiders?” FRIDAY’s voice piped up through Peter’s helmet, “May I ask you something?”
“Whatcha need Fri?” Peter replied, shooting another web and swinging past a full window office building, waving to a few occupants. Only one waved back.
“Merely as confirmation, but are you the one operating ‘TheAvengersNumber1Fan’ account on Archive of Our Own? It appears as though the account had been logged in on Tower Wifi.”
If an AI could sound amused this was it. Peter nearly missed his next shot, but straightened out, grabbing onto a rooftop ledge.
“Maaaaybe? Don’t tell Mr. Stark though!”
“I am only obligated to tell Boss confidential information, and all your works on Ao3 are open to public access, so it is not confidential. I am not required to report it to Boss unless he asks for it.”
Peter breathed a sigh of relief, mentally thanking the heavens, he could not have dealt with the Avengers finding out.
"You’re the best, Fri.”
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The Avengers were going insane.
Somehow, someway, somebody was getting access to their privacy.
And it wasn’t even to do something evil, which would’ve been so so much easier to deal with. No, this person was uploading all their most embarrassing interactions for others to see.
Tony had checked the tower’s security system over and over again, no breach, no hidden networks, nothing.
Nobody had any clue where to start looking for leads, sure this person was harmless, and some of the fics were amazingly formatted—at least one had gotten a laugh from each Avenger, not that any would tell— but it was a principle! Some had asked Peter, given that he was the youngest and probably most well versed in finding out who the author was, but he had evaded all questions and only replied with non-answers, then rushed away.
It wasn’t until one day that Bruce had secretly been reading one of the new fanfictions, that he started noting a pattern in the Authors notes.
Ladies and gentlemen, we got ‘em.
The team was gathered around in the common room. Clint was sitting on the floor; Steve was sitting next to Bucky on a couch; Tony was on his own armchair; Thor was on one end of a couch and Sam was on the other; Wanda and Vision were sharing a loveseat and Bruce was standing at the coffee table, computer open like this was a presentation (It was) facing the group. Peter couldn’t make the meeting since he had school, and Tony refused to dismiss him (“but what’s the point of working for Iron man if I can’t miss school, Mr. Stark?” “I will take the suit back underoos." “Wowie, I should be getting to the bus.”)
“Okay, so. As we all know, there is an author writing fanfiction with uncannily accurate relations to our schedules about us?”
“Yes Banner, would you also like to tell us about how the sky is blue?”
Sam commented sarcastically, earning him a few glares. Bruce continued on as if nothing happened.
“Well, authors comment on their works in the author’s notes sometimes, usually to tell readers why their fanfics were delayed, update scheduling, thanks, or other things to interact and inform their audience.”
“Are you saying we should just look at the author notes to find leads?”
Wanda piped up, tilting her head. Clint rubbed his nose.
“It was that easy? That fucking easy this entire time?!”
“Uh, yeah… I guess so?”
Bruce rubbed the back of his neck, looking sorry for no reason. Tony leaned forward in his seat.
"So what the hell are we waiting for? Start looking!”
Each Avenger pulled out their phones, going to the fanfics from the author “TheAvengersNumber1Fan” (Some may have bookmarked a few works, not that the others needed to know) and scrolled through the author notes.
Each one was surprisingly specific.
“Friend of Author here, he couldn’t post this chapter cause he’s healing from a severe concussion, but he promised to update, so here it is!”
“Sorry it took a while, was hit with a bus, got stabbed :/”
“Late post, had to go to space to save a wizard”
“Friend of author here again, posting cause he got really sick.”
“Back again, you will not believe what just happened, so it inspired this new fic. Enjoy”
“Thank you all for the praise and kudos!! Dropping a double fic for all y’all <3”
“I got a free churro, fic gets early update 😃”,
Each new author note was either thanking fans, talking about a new injury (Most comments were talking about “The Ao3 curse is strong in this one” on those notes,) or how the fic was inspired.
But as the Avengers continued reading and sharing the notes, it was looking more and more like a certain Spider-themed teenage vigilante was being described.
Suspicious indeed.
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The next day was a team hangout session, everyone was milling about the tower, still pretending to be under the pretense of not knowing who the mysterious fanfic author was, but subtle looks were shot at Peter as if they were trying to see into his mind, or browser history.
However, nothing stays good in Peter’s life for long.
The team had started to migrate towards the common room, since it was normal to end the day with a movie night. Everyone had taken their usual seats, snacks were being arranged for easy access and so people’s preferences were closer to them.
Peter was sitting right next to the floor by Tony’s chair, reaching for a bag of candy when suddenly Clint spoke up.
"So, are we sure there isn’t a spy within our ranks, collecting data to write embarrassing things about us for public appreciation?”
“Yes Barton, there is a new threat that can out-hack me and my own tower.” Tony said sarcastically, eating a handful of popcorn before continuing, “Me and Peter checked the tower’s security less than an hour ago, didn’t we Underroos?”
Peter nodded in agreement, grabbing a bag of gummy worms, trying to divert attention.
“Yeah, maybe it’s all a big coincidence? Lots of people write fanfics about you guys, this one just updates more.”
“But that’s the thing, this one’s detailed down to our day-to-day interactions!”
Clint shot back, pausing his search for the movie to have this conversation.
“Well if it’s not a security breach, it has to be one of us.”
Peter went pale at Steve’s words. Curse him for having basic context clues! There was a moment of silence (Hey, the Avengers were having fun dancing around the topic, and Sam was having an absolute riot watching Peter look like his soul was leaving his body) before Bucky spoke up.
“I think it’s Clint.”
“Excuse me? How the hell could it be me?” Clint gaped at him.
“I think it’s Clint too,” Natasha added, “He was the one to bring the fanfics to our attention.”
“I, for one, think it’s Wanda. I’ve seen her staying on her phone a lot.”
Tony added, eating another handful of popcorn. Wanda gasped.
“Rude! I’m only on my phone because I’m looking up recipes to try!”
“Suspicious.”
“How do we know it’s not you then? Huh?”
Peter was sweating even more. Everyone was bursting out into accusations, yelling different pieces of “evidence” at each other, and it caused overall chaos. Someone had even tried to accuse Thor, but it was quickly dismissed cause, well, he was Thor.,/p>
Finally, Steve raised his hand for silence.
“Wait. Peter and Nat haven’t said much.”
All eyes shot between the two accused parties, but more focused on Natasha so she took the floor first, rolling her eyes.
“I don’t even have time to write this stuff.”
“It’s true.” Bruce affirmed. “But I don’t think Peter would, he’s an angel.”
“Agreed, you didn’t write this right, Underroos?”
All eyes still went to Peter, awaiting his defense.
“Uh, yeah…. I don’t even know how to write.”
Fuck. What was wrong with me? Peter screamed internally.
....
“Damn. Didn’t think he’d outright say it.” Bucky remarked, the ends of his mouth twitching into what may have been a smile.
“Kid,” Tony sighed, like he wasn’t beaming like a proud father inside—cause hell yeah, his kid was an amazing writer, “What am I going to do with you?”
“I say we put ‘em on dish duty!”
Sam suggested, only to earn a few glares, no, they were going to have fun. Clint was grinning maniacally, standing up slowly. Peter knew that grin, he knew that grin very well, and right now, he rather have dish duty for years than whatever the grin meant.
He did not get dish duty.
Instead, Clint stepped forward once more, a grin that could only mean one thing plastered across his face—tickle torture.
Peter ran for the hills, screeching like a maniac, abandoning his poor gummy worms.
The others ran after him, some stumbling over their own feet from laughing way too hard.
Finally, he was cornered, and the onslaught began.
Clint got to him first, tackling him down and tickling mercilessly. The others joining in.
As the Avenger’s laughter filled the room, Peter was trapped, squirming and laughing uncontrollably at the tickle attack. Even Tony had joined in (the traitor) and grabbed his feet. Natasha and Bucky watched, unable to keep the smile creeping onto their faces. Finally, they relented when Natasha stepped forward.
“Okay, break it up you hooligans. We’ve had our fun for today.”
The group finally stepped back, letting Peter sit up, and slowly migrating back to the living room, the movie set-up still awaiting, with Peter in the middle.
“Okay! Okay, I confess!” Peter wheezed, rubbing the back of his neck and smiling sheepishly, “I, uh… I might have written a few of those fanfictions…”
As everyone took their seats, Steve shot him another look.
“Alright Pete, consider this your first and only warning on unauthorized writings.”
“But,” Tony piped up, grinning mischievously, “If you do ever pick up the pen again, let me read first.”
Clint nudged Bucky with his elbow, still laughing slightly.
“Still can’t believe you accused me, we already knew it was Peter.”
Bucky rolled his eyes, taking a swig of his bottle of beer. Nat, of course, was now in the mood for drama.
“Really now, Barton? Playing that game?”
All eyes shot over to Nat, then Clint, who was looking even paler than Peter was five minutes ago. Bucky spoke first, raising an eyebrow.
“Huh?”
“Oh yeah, Barton has his own fanfiction account. He writes fanfics shipping you and Steve, sometimes with Tony.”
All eyes widened in shock.
Drinks? Splashed onto the floor, dropped. Food? Forgotten at the new revelation. Movie? Playing in the background like a playlist from hell.
Peter, as usual, perked up and pointed dramatically at Clint, like he put two and two puzzles together.
“You’re ‘TheAuthorInTheVents’!”
“....What the fuck do you write about me, Capsicle, and Manchurian Candidate?”