ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴜɴᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ (peter parker x oc) (g x g)

twenty-two

Maze POV:

I don't wanna sound like a dick, but there haven't been many instances in my lifetime when I had no absolutely no idea what to do. There's always a solution, Bruce always said. Where the actual fuck was mine?

Still in bed socks, in Peter's nerd sweater and staring blankly at the floor, I stumbled into the elevator and pressed a button without bothering to check it. Hopefully it carried me into the bowels of hell where I belonged. Or at least where I could hide until Peter moved on and got married so I could face him again.

The elevator slid open on a random floor, which I stepped into, ignoring the blaring of the TV. I shuffled forward blindly until my legs hit an unidentified object.

"Maze?" Nat's concerned voice sounded far away.

"Are you ... drunk?" Wanda was beside her on the couch I had reached.

"No," I heard myself mumble, and my body decided to belly flop onto the sofa, head landing on somebody's lap and feet in somebody else's.

"We're watching The Notebook," Nat sounded close to me, so I assumed her fluffy pyjamas were the one I was slowly burying my head into. "Want some popcorn..?"

"No," I whispered.

The 'mum' look exchanged between Natasha and Wanda was palpable. "Honey.." Wanda's hand rubbed my calf gently. "Wanna talk about it?"

I paused. If there was anyone I could talk to about Peter and I's situation it was Wanda and Nat. But I simply couldn't bring myself to explain it. Explain why I couldn't possibly be with the boy who gave me all the love and devotion he had.

"No," I said for the final time. "Wanna sleep. Wanda? Please?"

Nat's hand running through my hair was the last thing I felt before Wanda waved her hand in my direction, and my entire world went black.

Tabia's POV:

I hate Disney. I hate Mickey Mouse, I hate those stupid songs and I hate, hate hate the princesses.

Being a princess doesn't mean some white chick in a sparkly ball gown ending up with a pasty prince. It means work. Hard work. It means tending to everybody's needs, looking proper and prim constantly, and it means never fucking up.

Saying 'fucking up' is probably a breach of some royal rule. Imagine. Rule number 607834 clearly states no princess of Wakanda should ever utter the phrase 'fucking up.' It probably exists, I kid you not.

So yeah, growing up wasn't the easiest. My brother, T'Challa, was showered with love and praise constantly, only doubling when Dad announced the throne would be his some day. Shuri, a literal certified genius by the time she was 11, couldn't be wrenched from the lab for even a moment if you didn't want to get yelled at by a pizza pocket-sized nerd.

Middle children are overlooked. It's a fact of life. And it became pretty clear to me early on in life that my siblings were going to overshadow me, no matter what I did. For a while, that bother me, and I fought it in every way possible.

Until I turned a different form of fighting.

Let me tell you, facing the Dora Milaje (the all-female warrior troupe sworn to protect Wakanda) was not an easy feat. Eventually, with months of training and fasting (and by fasting I mean succumbing to stress eating) I worked my way up, defeating one warrior at a time. Except Okoye.

That woman was fierce. Legend had it that she once made twenty one men kneel in her mercy. And I had no trouble believing it. She beat me eighteen times in combat before I finally managed to knock her over with my spear, sending her tumbling onto the dirt. In triumph, I held the blade to her throat. "Surrender," I demanded.